Are You There, God? It's Me, Sarah Walker
by WeAreAllStoriesInTheEnd
Summary: Crossover w/ Supernatural. Chuck leaves unexpectedly and Sarah will not rest until she gets him back. But what if along the way she finds that he had left for good reason, and that he is not the person she had grown to care so deeply for? Chuck/Sarah.
1. Forget about the Rain

**Author's note:**Ok, It has been forever since i've wrote anything worthwhile. I apologize for that, I've been busy with school and Supernatural. That was a weak excuse, but I digress. This story i'm working on, is my baby. I've been trying to write this thing for a whole year and i'm still not satisfied with it! This first part might be slow and or confusing, something both, but trust me it gets better. Just survive through the mystery aspect of it and everyone involved (reader and writer) will be very happy. Hopefully.

So here it is, I'll really really try to get these chapters out based on the reactions I get via reviews. I already have the next chapter done, and some of the other chapters randomly finished as well. This is a big AU too. Its in early Season 3 of Chuck and post "The Curious Case of Dean Winchester" for Season 5 of SPN. Beware of possible spoilers for both.

**Disclaimer:**Don't own Chuck, but psyched its coming back in January (Crosses fingers). And I do not own Supernatural, I'm just playing in Eric Kripke's sandbox. Which is fun btw.

***Update:**Took the time to reread the story and make some changes. All the mistakes are mine, and i'd love a beta. **Mastermind of New England **and have been bouncing around ideas for months and I forgot to credit him. So, uh, sorry. =D

* * *

**Chapter 1- Forget about the Rain**

_"When the sky is overcast,  
the clouds the darkest gray,  
I remember what I had,  
oh I dream of yesterday.  
So caught up in the past,  
the memories don't fade.  
I know this won't last in the past I can't stay."- Forget about the Rain. Trapt.  
_

It had been raining for the whole week.

And not just raining, but storming. There was thunder that shook the whole earth and lightning that lit up the dark sky in eerie blue streaks.

Sarah was leaning over the porcelain counter from within the Orange Orange, cleaning the shop while all hell broke loose from the outside. She wiped down the counter, bored out of her mind. The place was barren. There were no customers, and Sarah did not harbor any ill will to those who'd rather remain at home than brave an apocalyptic storm just to get a frozen yogurt.

Her eyes darted to the partly opened blinds. The clouds were black and somber and the rain pounded against the windows--it was so penetrating that she almost thought it would break the glass with its herculean force. Sarah sighed; it was supposed to be summer.

Tapping her fingers on the counter-top, she surveyed the store one last time before coming to a decision. She untied her apron and folded up neatly before casting it aside. She shrugged on her coat while grasping for her purse, and then headed to the door. She gripped the handle and used all her might to shove it open. Strong winds resisted her efforts but Sarah managed to pry it ajar. The bell chimed in her departure and she was hit with a frigid blast of wind. Her bare skin fell victim to the cold and she shivered.

Seeking a source of warmth, Sarah hastily locked up the Orange Orange. She switched the_ 'open'_ sign to '_closed'_ and then with a satisfied huff, she tugged her coat closer to her body and started her short trek to the Buy More.

* * *

The automatic doors slid open and Sarah came running in through the entrance, her breath heavy and labored. Her boots squeaked on the slick floor and droplets of water dripped down her face, nipped fingers, and the ends of her hair until a small puddle pooled beneath her feet.

Almost at once, the heat circulating throughout the store began to warm her up, thawing out the numbness in her bones. She rejoiced internally when she no longer felt the icy burn linger in her throat; odd because this might have been the first time she had been glad to be inside the Buy More. It was warm and inviting, which were two adjectives not often used when describing the store.

When she got most of her feeling back, her eyes began their search--past all of the shoppers and employees--until they landed on a single curly-headed man sitting behind the Nerd Herd desk.

Propping himself with one hand on his cheek, Chuck was on the verge of falling asleep. His eyes fluttered as he kept nodding as an inept customer frantically waved his phone in his face.

Sarah's lips contorted into a fairly amused grin. She could tell by the desperate look on Chuck's face that he needed someone to save him. Taking it upon herself to be the one to do this, she began to head over to intercede. She was stopped dead when a man rudely bumped into her shoulder, jarring the purse from her hand; it plopped into the wet puddle on the floor.

She was quick to reclaim her dampened purse, a growing sense of impatience setting on her face. Slinging her bag back over her shoulder, she watched the man (who was donning a large beige trenchcoat) make a beeline for the Nerd Herd desk, more specifically, Chuck. He politely rested a hand on the customer's chest and said something intelligible. Sarah strained to make the words out, but found it impossible. In the blink of an eye, the customer's upset expression had dispersed. It left him calm and loose; Sarah had trouble identifying how this could be. Said customer proceeded to apologize to Chuck, who merely nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Finally, he turned his back on Chuck and the man in the trenchcoat and simply just walked away.

Out of nowhere, a gruff voice broke Sarah's concentration. "Are you going to move, Walker? You're making a mess, and I am _not_ going to be cleaning it up."

She blinked several times, and craned her neck to see Casey in all of his green-shirt glory. He scowled disapprovingly.

"Do you know who that is?" She asked, disregarding his snide remark.

Casey looked at her strangely. He took a quick glance at the man talking with Chuck and then shrugged.

"No, I'm assuming you don't either."

She sighed and shook her head. Her eyes remained glued to the man and Chuck. Biting her lip, she watched as Chuck shot up to his feet, very alert. His brow furrowed and forehead creased in concentration. His boredrum ceased and he let the man talk while he just listened intently, a serious expression worn on his face.

"Chuck seems to know him," she told Casey, but kept her focus on Chuck. He was on edge; eyes hardened like stone while his body visibly tensed up. Sarah observed that there were no signs that Chuck had flashed yet, but it was possible that he was still being threatened by this stranger. "He looks upset, should we intervene?"

Casey grunted in response. He zeroed in on the man. With his back facing the two spies, all that could be seen was a mess of raven-black hair and the large hulking trenchcoat slumped over his small frame.

"I think Bartowski can handle it," said Casey. It sounded as though he was choosing his words carefully. "If he tries anything funny, we'll move in, but for now I say this guy is no threat." And without another word, Casey abandoned Sarah and he went off in the opposite direction.

Sarah watched him go in stunned confusion.

_'I guess if Casey thinks he's not a problem, then I should too.'_

But Sarah felt something was amiss. She had no clue why Casey was so ready to blow the potential threat off like it was nothing. He was obviously causing Chuck to act differently. He wasn't fearful of him though, no Chuck seemed open to him, but he did have his guard up. Like he was ready for anything.

Forgetting that she was in the middle of the floor, Sarah moved closer to the nerd herd desk but strayed just far enough so she could listen in on the conversation. She pretended to look at the newest videogames as they continued to talk in hushed whispers.

"I told you that'd I go with you, but something has come up and I can't leave. Not yet anyway..."

Chuck's voice was controlled and firm. Its tone conveyed that there was no room for further arguments. Upon hearing this, Sarah's ears perked up in curiosity.

The man in the trenchcoat sighed, "I have heard what is going on here." Intense blue eyes flickered briefly to Sarah, making shivers trail up her spine. "But how much do I need to stress what sort of danger we are facing?"

Chuck exchanged a look with the man and then to Sarah. He ran a hand through his hair, brown eyes conflicted. He shook his head decisively. "No, I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I can't help you."

Seeing that Chuck would not budge, the man huffed irritably. He leaned over the counter, his face inches from Chuck. Sarah caught this and she slipped into Agent Walker mode, her hand stuffed inside her purse, gripping cool metal readily. Expecting Chuck to cower in fear at the man's sudden advances, Sarah was surprised to see him remain rooted to where he stood. He sent the man a chiling glare emitting pure defiance. Sarah watched the two of them stare each other down, neither of them breaking eye contact. She strangely no longer felt threatened by man; instead she felt an odd sensation well up within her as she looked to Chuck.

"In time, you'll find that leaving this place is inevitable." The man forewarned. "If you want any chance of your loved one's surviving unscathed, you will come with me right now."

Chuck's gaze wavered and he looked down and away. Sarah thought that he was even ashamed of himself. The man in the trenchcoat tilted his head to the side, assessing him with soulful eyes. He placed a hand on Chuck's chest and that's when Sarah's patience was on its last leg. She was done waiting for this passive-aggressive game to come to an end.

"They will track you down," Sarah caught the man whisper to Chuck gravelly. "And to find you, they will use your family and friends against you because they do not mind collateral damage."

The man kept his palm resting on Chuck's chest. He pressed harder, digging his palm into Chuck's ribcage. Sarah's eyes widened in horror as Chuck doubled over; holding his stomach like the wind had just been knocked out of him. Falling forward, he gasped for breath, all the while shooting the man one of the coldest looks She had the misfortune of seeing.

"Thanks for that," he told the man between gritted teeth as he winced in pain. "Now get out of here."

The raven-haired man nodded reluctantly.

"Please reconsider," he said at last.

"Go," was the harsh and final reply.

The man turned his heel and left Chuck alone. His face was stoic and void of emotion, but looking deeper into his two large blue eyes Sarah saw remnants of dread and defeat. He clumsily dug one hand into his trenchcoat and drew a phone. He stalled for a second or two before pressing the send button and putting the it up to his ear.

As he headed for the entrance, he gave Sarah one long last look. His piercing gaze rendered her paralyzed. She felt her wrist suddenly become hot and burned her skin. A free hand snapped unconsciously onto the sight of the injury, and then Sarah had no choice but to tear her eyes off of the man's retreating form to seek what was causing her so much agony. It was the bracelet that once belonged to Chuck's mother; it was glowing, searing white hot. It had to have been the trick of the lighting or something like that, she thought with certainty, but the longer she touched it, the more it felt like she had stuck her hand into a pot of boiling water.

Sure that the man was about to leave, Sarah glanced over her shoulder to watch him pass through the automatic doors. There was a sudden crash of thunder and stroke of lightning; the sky illuminated electric blue and she swore she saw the man evaporate into thin air.

Remarkably, her wrist no longer burned.

Mystified, Sarah couldn't pull her eyes off the entrance. Only when Chuck came by her side did she break from the entransic state she had fallen into.

"Nice weather we're having," Chuck said deadpanned.

Trading him a sidelong glance, she replied. "A friend of yours?"

He smiled. "More of an acquaintance really. Friend of a friend kind of thing."

Sarah turned to face him and said with strong disbelief. "Is he going to be a problem for us, Chuck? It looked like you two were going to break out in a fight."

Chuck laughed, but it sounded forced. "Trust me, you and Casey have nothing to worry about."

"There's no need for a background check?" Sarah teased, but was he knew she wasn't joking.

"You wouldn't find anything spy-related in his file." His eyes dimmed and he took on a pensive appearance. "I don't even think he knows spies exist..."

His voice drifted off and Sarah decided to keep her distance from his personal affairs.

"If you're sure, Chuck, I won't investigate further." She took him by the hand, feeling heat radiate off of him in waves. "I promise."

He nodded distractedly.

"Wanna go back to the apartment for awhile"? He suggested. "Big Mike gave me the rest of the day off."

_He's lying through his teeth._ Sarah realized, puzzled. _But why would he lie? What are you hiding from me Chuck?_

Playing his game, Sarah nodded. "Ok, what do you want to do?"

* * *

It took twice as long to get back to Chuck's apartment then it would on a normal sunny day. With rain pouring mercilessly overhead, Sarah found it near impossible to navigate through the flooded streets of Burbank. The windshield wipers were going crazy, clearing a visible path for Sarah to maneuver safely on the freeway. To keep her relaxed, Chuck turned on the radio and they both listened to the soft rock melodies in silence.

Feeling restless from being cooped up in such a confined space, Sarah had the unusual compulsion to talk. She struck up a small conversation, hoping that it would knock some sense into Chuck.

"This weather has been so strange lately. Its the middle of August and there has not been one day of sunshine..." She wanted to add that ever since Chuck had reuploaded the Intersect that the whole world seemed to being going to hell.

After he defeated the Ring spies, Beckman offered Chuck the opportunity to be a real agent. He accepted her proposition and was sent to some CIA/NSA training facility right after Ellie and Awesome's wedding. Sarah had barely enough time to absorb what had happened. It was just a stream of fragmented events that never added up to complete one single thought. It was not until the next morning did she finally put the pieces together. Chuck was the Intersect, again. That meant there was no chance of them having a real life together. She was ready to give up her life as a spy that night, but it was all for nothing when Chuck basically slapped it back in her face.

And so he left. For three months, the three longest months of her life, Chuck was gone. And during that time, the weather had changed. There were outbreaks of wild fires followed by random earthquakes, and now an onslaught of thunder storms; and that was just in California. From what she had read and seen on the news, the entire country--the whole world was having these erratic climate changes.

The weather wasn't the only thing that had changed. The number of criminal acts--theft, vandalism, rape, and murder- had increased to all new highs. Disease was running rampant in other parts of the world, causing people to believe that this was the coming of days. When things started to spin out of control, Chuck had returned. But he was home early, too early to have become a real spy. He wouldn't tell Sarah or Casey why he had decided to come back so soon. He was unusually quiet since his return. Beckman had revealed that he had failed training because he could not shoot someone during a practice simulation. Sarah trusted that was the true reason for his detachment, but as the weeks went by, she began to believe there was something more to it.

"Some people are getting really worked up about it," Sarah rambled on, waiting for Chuck to respond. He kept staring at the rain-streaked window. "They've been saying that these are signs of the apocalypse."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck grow rigid. His eyes were closed with his forehead creased like he was in some form distress. Concerned, Sarah looked at him a little bit longer before exiting the freeway and concentrating on beating the storm back home.

* * *

Chuck flung the door wide open, pulling Sarah through by the hand. He kicked the door shut and promptly shook his head like a dog, water droplets flying in every direction. Both he and Sarah were soaked to the bone with the icy rain. Sarah slipped out of her wet boots and stripped off her jacket, hanging it on the coat-hanger. Shivering, she began to ring out her dripping wet hair all while heading toward Chuck's bedroom.

"That was, with out a doubt the coldest rain I've felt. Ever.," She said with teeth chattering. "Shouldn't it be snowing when the temperature is below freezing?"

When she entered the room, Sarah happily plopped down on the neatly made bed. Getting comfortable, she watched tiredly as Chuck rummaged through his closet only to pull out a familiar red sweatshirt. He shut the sliding glass door and then tossed it to Sarah who caught it with ease.

"You don't want to get swine flu," He told her. There was none of his usual humor laced in his words. He was completely serious. She gave him a weird look but put on the sweatshirt anyway.

Feeling warmer, she snuggled into the covers and rested her damp hair on one of the soft pillows. She combed through tangled hair with her fingers, pausing when she noticed Chuck loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. It was good to know that he no longer felt uncomfortable around her. A year or so ago, Chuck would be blushing madly if he had to change in her presence.

"I don't think you contract swine flu by getting wet," She interjected dryly.

With his back turned, Chuck barely missed Sarah's cheeks grow red while he continued to undress. Tossing the tie and shirt into the laundry basket across the room, he looked over his shoulder and smirked.

"Normally I'd agree with you on that," he said. "But if this is Judgement day, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"True."

He pulled off his white undershirt in one fluid motion and then threw it with his other drenched clothes. Sarah's face burned a deeper red as he bent over to claim drier change of clothes. He grabbed a black long-sleeved shirt and faced her. Sarah's eyes almost bugged out of her head when she noticed something Chuck's bare chest.

"Nice tattoo," She studied him briefly before asking, "When did you get that?"

Sara never remembered Chuck having a tattoo before, or even expressing the desire to get one. Didn't he have a weird aversion to needles?

Chuck looked down to see the ink just below his left collarbone. It was a black star--a pentagram-- and it was encircled by a black sun.

"Oh, this?" He said casually. "Uh, I got it the weekend I got back from training."

"Can I ask why?"

Throwing on his shirt, he shrugged with indifference. "Some of my friends have tattoos and I thought I should face my fear of needles and get one? I don't know, it was pretty spontaneous."

Sarah wanted to pry deeper, but decided to keep her mouth shut. Here was just another thing Chuck was hiding from her. A tattoo. And It just didn't add up. Chuck and tattoos did not go together, it was like mixing oil and vinegar. A part of her wondered if Ellie knew.

"--So, do you want me to get you some hot chocolate?"

She blinked. "What?"

Chuck had moved to the doorway, "Hot Chocolate, Agent Walker. Would you like some?"

"Yeah, that'd be much appreciated."

"Good choice," he commented with an honest smile. "Just stay put and I'll be right back."

He left the room, leaving Sarah alone on his bed. Yawning loudly, she closed her eyes and nuzzled deeper into the pillows. They smelt like Chuck, all having that same amazing scent. She felt a grin spread across her lips, happy that he had finally come home and was safe from any harm that she was unable to protect him from.

A she was about to drift asleep, Sarah jolted awake to the sound of Chuck's phone vibrating on the nightstand. She turned to her side and reached her hand out to grab it.

"Chuck, someone is texting you..."

There was a small beat, but then she heard him call out, "Who is it?"

Sarah read the IPhone and found that the name simply said: Sam.

Feeling nosy, she hit the touch screen to view the message.

A blurb popped up and all that was written was, "We need to talk," followed by a long set of numbers. "30°08′07″N 96°15′25″W﻿ / ﻿30.13528°N 96.25694°W﻿ / 30.13528; -96.25694"

Sarah read and reread the string of digits repeatedly. They were coordinates. Just then a flag went up in the back of her brain. She opted to tread carefully from then on, her suspicions concerning Chuck continued to rise.

"Someone named Sam," She yelled back.

In an instant, Chuck rushed into his room. He was holding two steaming mugs of hot coco, his face giving off that dumbfounded look he was so famous for. He bent over and traded Sarah the mug for his IPhone. She took the mug and propped herself up against the headboard of the bed. She blew on the hot drink and took a tentative sip as she watched Chuck scroll through his texts.

"Does Sam have any connections to the guy from the Buy More?" She inquired curiously.

Chuck looked up from his phone, "Of course not."

"Right," she muttered and rolled her eyes. Chuck was being way to evasive for her liking. "So who is this guy, or girl..?"

"He's an old friend from Stanford," he said, a little too preoccupied. His voice sounded dazed and confused. Did he just flash?

"That's the first of heard of him. Did he hang out with you and Bryce?"

He fiddled with his phone, answering half-heartedly, "No, he didn't like Bryce very much...or Jill for that matter." Putting the phone in his pants pocket, he drank some of his coco and joined Sarah on the bed. "He's about two and a half years younger than me, so he didn't really "connect" with my group of friends."

Sarah nodded in understanding. "Seems like he really wants to talk to you," she remarked coolly. "Sent you coordinates...are you sure he's not a Fulcrum agent?"

At this, Chuck choked on his coco. He burst out laughing and it was music to Sarah's ears, even though she was caught off guard by it. She hadn't heard him laugh since before the wedding. She liked his laughter and missed it terribly.

"What's so funny?" She asked.

He shook his head and snorted, "Nothing."

Punching his arm, Chuck almost spilt his mug. He set it down on the nightstand and climbed up beside her. Side by side, they sat next to each other. Even then, Chuck still kept his distance only when they were inches a part. Sarah swirled her coco around and gave him a funny look.

"Come on, Chuck. You can tell me anything..."

For a moment, he said nothing. Sarah thought he was about to drift off again, withdraw back into that shell of his and leave her questions unanswered. Instead he snaked an arm around her neck and brought her closer into his chest. Sarah found it strange, the way he was acting. How he would be so incredibly distant at one time and then be touchy and inviting in the next. It was driving her up a wall.

"Let's just say Sam would be the last person you'd think would be a spy." he said finally.

"That's funny, coming from you," Sarah said playfully.

"Uh, huh. Anyway, Sam couldn't have been recruited by Fulcrum, or the CIA for that matter. Like me, he never finished school..."

Sarah frowned, "What happened?"

"There was a fire in his apartment," Chuck explained. His eyes grew darker, haunted. "His girlfriend didn't make it out."

"Oh," Sarah looked down, sorry that she asked. "What does he do now?"

Playing with her hair, Chuck stared out of the Morgan Door. He watched the rain tap the window and he sighed almost longingly. "I'm not entirely sure; we haven't talked in a long time. The last thing I remember him telling me is that he and his older brother were going on a cross-country road trip. After what happened, he needed time to clear his thoughts, y'know? "

Sarah nodded sluggishly; she took one last sip out of her mug and then set it down. It was empty. Chuck looked at the mug briefly before looking back at her. She let out a long drawn out yawn and tears sprang from her eyes.

He studied her before asking, "Tired?"

"A little..." She said quietly.

She had just begun to feel lightheaded when a crazy thought popped into her head. It made the sneaking sense of betrayal become more apparent and obvious than before. Her face paled considerably at the possibility of it actually being true.

"Sarah, do you trust me?" Chuck's voice brought her back to the present.

Struggling to keep her eyes open, she casted a wary gaze his way. His face was blurred and fuzzy around the edges.

"C-chuck...did, did you drug my hot chocolate?" She asked and giggled at the ridiculousness of the question.

_Please say no, just say no Chuck. _Her subconsciousness begged him in sadness. _Don't tell me the truth, I won't be able to take it._

Even as her sight began to grow worse, Sarah could see the guilty look evident on Chuck's face. Her bubbly attitude caused by the drug went away and then she started to become extremely anxious.

"Why...why would you do that--?" She said nervously. Her speech was incoherent and was more just mumbling now.

Chuck leaned up to her, brushing a damp lock of hair out of her face. His brown eyes met her glazed-over blue ones and he spoke methodically.

"I need you to be safe, Sarah." She heard him tell her forlornly. "And for that, it's best that you stay away from me for awhile."

With all the strength she could muster, Sarah shook her head back and forth. "No, Chuck. We need to stay....to--togeth--" She couldn't finish because a pair of lips had suceeded in silencing her. The kiss they shared was gentle and soothing. It was a kiss that promised that there would be more soon, more when he'd return for her.

Chuck pulled back slowly. His eyes wavered with unshed tears. "I love you Sarah and I will not let you die because of me. I'm sorry I had to do this, but it's the only way."

Sarah started to slide down the pillows and her body felt numb and dead. The drug was in full effect and it was only seconds before she'd fall unconscious and Chuck would leave.

He slipped off the bed and Sarah watched him through parted eyes. He disappeared underneath the bed and then came back up, holding a shoebox. He dug through its contents, retrieving what he needed for whatever journey lay ahead.

"Please..."

Chuck shut the box and placed it back beneath the bed. He looked up to see Sarah, with both eyes closed, mutter in a barely lucid state. He gave her a sad smile. There was a hint of regret hidden beyond his eyes.

Before he resumed packing, he tucked Sarah in the covers so she'd at least be comfortable. He knelt beside the bed and whispered into her ear.

"I'll come back for you, I promise."

It was the last thing Sarah heard before she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**End Chapter one.**

**Chapter Two is on its way- Give me a Sign**

**AN: So, thoughts? Review would be very nice and make me happy. Things will pick up, because if you know anything about Supernatural, then you know things are gonna get good soon. You better watch out cuz you might just get "Kripke'd" by me. **


	2. Give me a Sign

**AN:**Thanks so much for the reviews! I've been trying to reply to everyones' thoughts, etc, but my mom went on my email and accidentally deleted my in-box. I have yet to figure out how and why she'd do that, but it remains a mystery. Anyway, FYI, I thought that chapter one was crap and I went back and updated it because I saw multiple errors and plot holes that you could drive a matchbox through. So I corrected it and I suggest skimming through it real quick because I did change stuff. More hinty stuff anyways.

**AN2:**If you have not heard of or never seen an episode of the TV show, Supernatural, I suggest you watch it right now. Kidding, if you want to be less confused about that universe, go to Wikipedia and just read the summary and stuff. MastermindofNewEngland had been generously trading ideas with me about this story for a few months now, so I credit him on bringing this fic to life.

Enjoy Chapter two, and review please!

* * *

**Chapter Two- Give Me a Sign**

_"I can feel you falling away  
No longer the lost  
No longer the same  
And I can see you starting to break  
I'll keep you alive  
If you show me the way  
Forever - and ever  
the scars will remain  
I'm falling apart  
Leave me here forever in the dark"-Give me a Sign, Breaking Benjamin_

_She looks into his eyes and all she sees is suffering and it is so heartbreaking that she cannot control the tears the threaten to fall down her face._

_He stands a mere five feet from her. The distance is close, closest she thinks she'll ever be to him ever again. It destroys her to know that it is impossible to close the gap between them. If she moves, he will disappear, and this time he will never come back to her. _

_So she stands there and does nothing._

_He is battered and bloodied, shattered glass glitters in his hair and shards poke out of his skin. One arm hangs in an awkward angle, broken. Through all of this, he still smiles. There is nothing behind it, no feeling. As far as she's concerned, he is already dead. _

_"You need to go, Sarah." He tells her in a hoarse whisper._

_She shakes her head defiantly. "I-I can't. You promised you wouldn't leave me again. Chuck, don't do this."_

_After all the torture, all the senseless pain and agony his withstood, he never gave in. He was at the brink of death before he gives them the answer they all wanted to hear. It was only when they took her and began to hurt her, destroy her, piece by piece did Chuck finally break down and offer his consent._

_Now he stands before her, untouchable. _

_He still bleeds profusely. The wounds are certainly fatal. She feels her own injuries soak her shirt with the red liquid. She doesn't mind because she can deal with physical pain. She cannot, however, deal with this. This is true torture._

_"Sarah, I'm so, so sorry."_

_She begins to sob uncontrollably when a giant inferno engulfs him in a raging tornado. She screams for it to stop, for the madness to just end but the heat from the flames lick her body and ignite everything around her. _

_She feels nothing when the fire swallows her whole._

* * *

"Chuck!!!"

Sarah jerked awake with a gasp, looking around wildly. It took her a few moments to realize she was sitting in Chuck's bed, wrapped up in the covers. She was drenched with cold sweat, her head throbbing as her disorientation began to fade and her eyes gradually adjusted her surroundings.

Her breathing was uneven while her throat ached from screaming. She sat up in the bed, glancing at the clock. It was just passed four in the morning. She looked out to the Morgan Door; it was pitch black, but she still could hear the trickling of rain outside. Staring into the nothingness, she felt helpless; like she was drowning, left forever in the dark. Not knowing what else to do, she swiped one hand blindly in the hopes of finding the lamp.

The light flicked on and the room was illuminated. Sarah's eyes snapped shut when the brightness was too harsh for her sensitive eyes. She was still drowsy from the spiked drink Chuck had given her, but alert and trembling since she woke up from that horrible nightmare.

Nightmares, Sarah buried her head in her hands and sucked back the urge to cry. They have become a frequent occurrence of late. She started seeing these nightmarish visions months ago; ever since Chuck had left for training. She would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming into the darkness only to break down crying in hysterics.

What got to her the most was that none of these dreams were about Chuck. Not specifically at least. Most were about random people she did not know nor instances she did not recognize. Sarah thought back to the first time she had been plagued with sleepless nights.

* * *

_It is set in a church, somewhere on the east coast. Sarah thinks it might be around Delaware, or maybe Maryland. _

_One very tall man and a woman enter the religious sanctuary, they are pleased to find a woman standing by the pew. She wears a sacrificial white dress and smirks when the man come into view. She taunts him with cruel intentions in the hopes to instigate something dreadful from within his soul. _

_She is dragged to the floor by invisible hands, but keeps that same knowing smile placed unwaveringly on her lips. _

_He stops suddenly when there are loud thumps banging the double doors. He looks behind him, confused._

_He says a name but Sarah cannot hear anything, just the seldom beating of a lone heart. Its deafening, drowning everything else out._

_The raven-haired woman screams at the man. He is reluctant to continue but the woman in white laughs a horrible laugh that sends chills up Sarah's spine. She says something personal to the young man. He becomes frozen with anger and the heartbeat becomes more prominent and increases in speed._

_He raises his hand up to the terrible woman and she convulses several times, her body glowing and flickering from within. Sarah cannot believe what she is seeing when his eyes turn an oily black color. _

_At last, the woman goes limp. _

_The black in his eyes retreat and they return to its original color. _

_Sarah thinks its all over, but is sorely mistaken. The chaos has only yet to begin._

_A trail of blood pours from the woman's body. It flows steadily in a designated direction, forming a circle of some kind: a portal._

_It all ends with the man being betrayed by this raven-haired woman. She is smug and smiles victoriously. In pure rage, he tries to kill her, but is too weak and grabs his head in pain. The woman kneels down and tells him the harsh truth of what he has done. What he has released and how it always had to be him. _

_He saved them. He set the monster free. _

_The bolted door breaks open and another man advances towards the woman. He pulls out a blade and the woman is trapped. The taller of the two holds her back and the man weilding the knife plunges it deep within her chest. She glows bright orange and flickers once before collapsing to the ground, dead. _

_The taller man looks to the other man, his brother. He is coming undone right before his eyes. _

_"I'm sorry."_

_A brilliant white light shoots straight up from the center of the bloody circle. The church begins to shake and crumble inward. _

_"...let's go!" The elder brother screams above the loud piercing sounds emitting from the portal. . _

_The younger brother stands frozen. His green eyes look in horror at what he has done. He grabs his brother's jacket and just continues to stare at the light._

_"He's coming."_

_There's another flash of light, it become overbearing and that's when--

* * *

_

--Sarah woke up.

From then on, Sarah would be subjected to these dreams, nightmares, visions--whatever they were. They were unexplainable and she thought they were getting better upon Chuck's return. But upon his next mysterious departure, these nightmares had come back with a vengeance. It caused Sarah even more harm than before because now it wasn't just torturing her with images of random events. They were all about Chuck.

When her heartbeat had settled down to its normal rhythm, Sarah swung her legs out of the covers ofthe bed. She surveye dthe dimmly lit room, finding no trace of Chuck or where he could've gone. Getting up to her feet, Sarah wobbled a bit before regaining the balance that had been stripped from her by the drug. Standing upright, her eyes fell on the empty glass once full with steamy hot chocolate. She was angrier at herself for getting fooled by Chuck rather then him actually spiking her drink in the first place.

Still, she had a hard time believing that Chuck was capable of doing such a thing. Drugging her as a last resort for freedom. It stung that he'd openly betray her like he did. If she had just recognized the signs and paid more close attention to him--then she probably would've picked up on what he was trying to accomplish. Sarah promised herself then that she'd never take Chuck Bartowski for granted ever again. When he wanted something, he would do anything humanly possible to get it.

Leaving her was just one of those things.

"Fool me once, Chuck." She muttered to herself.

Catching a glimpse of his nightstand, she saw that he had left his watch. Typical Chuck. Sighing exasperatedly, Sarah raked her brain to recall anything Chuck had told her before she succumbed to the powerful drug.

She started to search to room, "Give me a sign...come on, Chuck."

She chewed on her lip and began to plot her next move. If she could not find anything worth noting, then she'd have no choice but to go get Casey.

_Which means we'll have to tell Beckman that I lost the Intersect. Great._

Just as she was about to give up all hope, Sarah eyed the bed carefully and portions of her memory flooded back into her brain.

_The shoebox!_

She fell to the carpet floor and on her hands and knees, she reached underneath the bed and pulled out the elusive shoebox, the one that Chuck secretly kept all of his spy identification. She rolled up to her feet and hastily popped the top off and carelessly casted it aside. She began to file through each ID, knowing which ones were made by the CIA/NSA in Charles Carmichael's name.

Hands stalled from their search once Sarah came across several badges she had never seen before. Brows furrowed in confusion, she took them out of the box and set them on the bed.

The first one was an Air Marshal's badge and ID. Sarah's eyes focused on the picture of Chuck displayed on the card. He looked younger, maybe in from the years before or just after his expulsion from Stanford. His hair was combed back and professional. He appeared to be extremely handsome while he donned a nice black suit.

"Adam Gontier…" she read the alias slowly.

The next few ID's were mostly the same, but varied on occupation. Sarah discovered that Chuck had been making fake aliases for Homeland Security (Mark Burnley), the FBI (Jared Williams), and police officers, detectives, journalists, and much more.

Sarah dropped the last ID in a newly made pile beside her on the bed. Her mind was reeling with hundreds of questions she wanted Chuck to answer. Her eyes flickered to the shoe box and among all the fake badges, displaying the same picture of Chuck. A picture of someone she thought she knew pretty well up until now.

She said sadly, "What have you got yourself into, Chuck?"

Taking one more glance at the last ID she found (claiming him to be a doctor of some kind); Sarah remained glued to his photo. She was simply transfixed by his appearance, his expression. He resembled nothing of the man she came to lov--like.

No, this was not Chuck Bartowski. He was not smiling, his features set in a perfect, detached expression.

This had Sarah wonder whether the Chuck she knew was the real Chuck at all. Maybe the man she saw in the pictures held the truth.

Sarah sighed, lowering her gaze back into the depths of the shoe box. Her eyes widened when she saw a folded up piece of paper. Curious, she reached into the box's depths and retrieved the paper. She gently unfolded it and placed it on the bed's surface, flattening out all four corners so it would lay flat. The edges still curled up in resistance, but Sarah still could make out the photo without any trouble.

Her eyes widened at what she saw. Set in the outdoors, more specifically, a forest in the middle of the wilderness stood six individuals. They all were dressed in multiple layers of clothing, their faces covered with dirt and grime. All of them were smiling, or trying their best to give the impression that they were truly happy.

The first person Sarah recognized in the photograph was Chuck. Or a very young version of him anyway. He looked to be around thirteen or fourteen years old; still with the curly untamed hair, friendly brown eyes and a warm smile. In fact, he was grinning ear to ear. She wondered what had happened to make this young boy change into the emotionless man she saw in the piles of forged ID cards.

She traced the outline of Chuck's face, lost in her own musings before moving on.

Gazing at the photo, Sarah felt a lump grow in her throat. She could not breathe.

"Oh my God."

Beside Chuck was a smaller boy, who might have been two or three years younger than him. A small smile etched his lips, mostly out of the camera's benefit. He had shaggy brown hair and the bangs fell over his eyes. His eerily familiar green eyes stared back at Sarah, almost condemning. Sarah almost dropped the photo when she made the connection.

_It's the man from my nightmares. _She thought, frightened that this was to weird to just be a coincidence. _He's younger here, just a boy. _Just like Chuck was. But he still had the same haunted eyes that stayed with him for countless of years after the picture was taken. _What is he doing with Chuck?_

Pulling her eyes from the boy, she looked to the next figure. She immediately knew who it was.

_This is getting way too freaky._

Standing there, with a big shit-eating grin on his face was the boy's older brother. He had the same green eyes, and same light brown hair spiked up just how it was years in the future. He had one arm wrapped around the shoulder belonging to--

"Ellie?"

A teenage Ellie Bartowski stood there, not entirely content with the boy looking so lustfully at her. Her expression had Sarah think that she was seconds from punching him in his beautiful face. Behind the four kids lingered two adults. The first one was a much younger and youthful Stephen Bartowski. He had his hands on Chuck's shoulders, squeezing them both side reassuringly. He looked more than proud of his son and daughter, like that had made their right of passage into the world or something of the sort. Beside him was another man. Sarah guessed he was the other boys' father. He appeared to be haggard and worn to the bone; he kept his fake smile up to trick the camera.

Her eyes stayed on the photo a little while longer before Sarah blinked a few times and flipped it over. In messy handwriting was a small note.

It read:

_I found this laying around in the trunk of the car, thought you might like to keep it. _

_I know you get sentimental about these kind of things. Dad says if you and El have any trouble with anything at all, don't hesitate to call._

_We'll be right on our way to help._

_Hope to see you soon,_

_Sam Winchester_

"Sam," Sarah reread the name slowly. "Sam Winchester...as in the same Sam from Stanford?"

Folding the photo back up as it was before she found it, Sarah pocketed in the sweatshirt Chuck lent her. She took one of the fake ID's and credit cards as well. Having what she needed, Sarah put everything back into the shoebox and hid it safely beneath the bed. She leapt off the bed and charged out of the bedroom, not caring if Morgan was asleep in the other room or not.

_Casey needs to see this._

Grabbing her purse, she unlocked the door and stealthily slid out without a sound. Only the gently patters of rain filling up the fountain could be heard when she shut the door closed.

* * *

_Knock! Knock!_

"Casey!" She yelled in a hushed whisper. "Dammit, Casey, open up!"

Sarah knocked once more but the NSA spy did not come to answer his damn door. So she had no choice but to stand in the dark while a cold rain poured down on her.

_I hate the rain. I really, really, do._

As she was about to knock for the umpteenth time, she stopped mid-knock when lights flickered on from within the apartment. She let out a sigh of relief when a door swung open and she was met with a very exhusted-looking Casey.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He grunted, no mood for pleasantries.

Sarah had no time for his grumpiness. The longer they stood there doing nothing was more time spent not looking for Chuck. And she wanted all the time in the world to find him.

"Let me in," she said pointedly. "We need to talk."

Rolling his eyes, Casey flung the door open and allowed Sarah to enter. Once inside, she spun around and got straight to the point.

"Chuck's gone, he drugged me around," She remembered it was only four--or four thirty in the morning. "Thirteen hours or so ago. Don't ask me why he left, all I know is that it has something to do with that guy at the Buy More." Her eyes narrowed accusingly. "The one you said who you said was no threat."

Sarah expected Casey to rage. She was standing there readily, awaiting for him to get pissed off and cuss Chuck out for his pure stupidity as a human being. But this is not what transpired. Instead, Casey merely yawned. He rubbed some sleep out of his eye and then shrugged it off.

"Are you sure Chuck "ran away?" He asked uninterestedly.

Sarah was ready to pull her hair out. Why wasn't Casey taking this seriously? Chuck was missing! Gone like the wind. Poof, disappeared! Dammit, they needed to get a whole investigation team ready with helicopters, track dogs and the like. It was top priority to locate Chuck. He was the most important weapon the government has to fight against the Ring. Not only that, but he also meant a lot to her. She needed him back.

"Yes, i'm fucking sure he ran away!" She snapped at him in frustration. "He drugged me and took off!"

Casey snorted. "Drugged you Walker? Bartowski sure has got under your skin hasn't he?" He snickered, "Or under something else."

Practically seething, Sarah had to take deep breaths to calm herself down. It was important to stay composed during these kind of situations. If she couldn't, she was sure there would be a dead NSA agent laying on the ground in a few seconds.

"Can you be serious for one second?" She said as calmly as possible. "The more time we waste, the further Chuck could go. He might be in serious trouble."

"Alright, Sarah." Casey resorted to her first name to show he was serious. "How do you want to approach this?"

"Do you have the 24 feed still up from yesterday afternoon?"

* * *

Sarah watched the tapes intensely, her face inches from the monitor.

"What are we looking for?" Casey spoke up, his eyes glued to the screen.

The monitor displayed Chuck stripping out of his wet clothes and throwing on a new shirt. He then left the room to go get Sarah and himself some hot chocolate.

Sarah pointed to the Iphone sitting on the nightstand. "I want you to zoom in on his phone. As soon as I answer his text message, there will be a set of corrdinates written on the screen."

When the tapes showed Sarah answer the phone, Casey paused it. He clicked on a few buttons and the screen zoomed in until all of the message was clear and pristine.

"You think this guy, Sam was trying to lure Bartowski out of our protection?" Casey said with an eyebrow raised.

Sarah was typing on the other computer, punching in the coordinates in exactly the way they were written. She hit the enter key and looked to Casey.

"Positive." She answered confidently. "After a location is pinpointed we need to look up all the files we have on a Sam Winchester."

"Sam Winchester?"

The monitor flashed and brought of the results. Still holding her gaze with Casey, she swore that she had seen him show some sort of recognition when she mentioned the suspects name.

Looking back to the computer monitor, Sarah saw where Chuck was headed.

"Chapel Hill, Texas."

Both Sarah and Casey exchanged confused looks.

"I'll go dig up something on this Winchester guy." Casey offered.

Sarah remained fixated on the screen, wondering why in the world Chuck would want to go there. To the far side of Texas. What was there?

Her thoughts traveled to the boy in the photo and when she shut her eyes, she could still picture the same boy--now man all grown up, straight from her nightmares.

When she reopened her eyes, Sarah was determined to find Chuck and bring him back home. At least now she knew what the key to this whole thing was.

_Find Sam Winchester, you find Chuck Bartowski._

It was that simple.

* * *

**End Chapter 2**

**Next Chapter 3- Friends and Alibis **

**An: **Yes, this was a very long chapter. Next Chapter will be less boring, I promise. If anyone wants to beta a story, mine is up for grabs. Please!


	3. Friends & Alibis

An: Hello, and thank you for sticking by on this story. I appreciate all of the reviews I have recieved so far, and I hope I get a bunch more after this chapter's debut. I promise after this chapter, things will start picking up. It's another Chuckless chapter, but I swear this trend will not continue on this way. Ha Ha.

I'd also like to thank ersk4 for beta'ing this chapter. =D

Enjoy and R&R

* * *

**Chapter 3- Friends & Alibis**

"Hold your head, hold it up high  
Here's to the friends that were alibis  
Keep this close, by your side  
when I come home we will have our night  
We will have our night."

-Friends and Alibis, Escape the Fate

**~*~**

"Have you found anything yet?"

Casey looked over his shoulder and saw Sarah hovering over him. Her eyes were panicked and brimming with apprehension. He shook his head.

"It's been only three minutes, calm down Walker," he told her, incensed. "Go sit down or something."

It was Sarah's turn to be annoyed. "Why is it so wrong that I want to find Chuck?" she asked. "It's our job to protect him and now that he's gone, we're supposed to do everything possible to get him back. So forgive me if I've been just a little too concerned about Chuck. It's obvious that you don't care at all."

Casey frowned, biting back the urge to reveal something he shouldn't to his uptight partner. Just saying anything else would add the fuel to her frantic fire.

So he settled for silence.

He did want to—wished actually—to be able to drop all pretences and stop lying to her. But he couldn't.

Staring at the monitor, the loading bar was at 85%, still accumulating information on the Winchester boy. He sighed tiredly.

_Damn you Bartowski,_ he growled in his head. _You're going to drive Walker insane the longer you keep her from the truth. She'll find out too, eventually. _There was a hint of a tiny smile. _And she'll tear you a new one, you can count on it._

His musings fell on deaf ears. Of course Chuck had considered letting Sarah in on his little secret, his dark and mysterious past. But he decided against it. So he continued to live under the façade he constructed for himself. Casey stupidly agreed to keep Sarah out of the loop. It was selfish on his part, knowing full well that she should know what sort of madness was going on around her, lurking in the shadows. But the oath he had made forced him to deceive her. If he ever broke it, there would be dire consequences.

Chuck had made that abundantly clear.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

_"You understand what will happen if you say anything—anything at all to her, right?" Chuck had inquired, his voice deathly low._

_It was on the verge of sounding sort of menacing. Coming from Chuck's mouth, Casey normally would have scoffed and made a snarky comment. But looking closely at his asset's face, the no-nonsense expression he wore, Casey felt a stab of fear jab him in the gut._

_Chuck was serious. _

_Casey had nodded. "I get it. I'll keep my mouth shut."_

_They were both standing toe to toe in the darkness of the BuyMore home theater room. Chuck's cool brown eyes scrutinized the large man. He wanted to make sure that he could trust him implicitly._

_A moment passed as the tension between them increased past a boiling point. It all vaporized when Chuck offered him a hand. Casey eyed it carefully before accepting it and returning a firm handshake. They engage in a brief staring contest, challenging each other's resolve and tenacity._

_Chuck pulled away from the binding shake first, obviously satisfied. He stuck his hands into his pants pockets and smiled wistfully._

_"Thank you for doing this; means a lot to me," he expressed with an honest smile._

_He turned his back on Casey and said nothing more. Casey watched the younger man exit the room, feeling the dark presence leaving with him like a shadow. A trickle of blood slid down his forearm and rolled off his wrist. He rubbed the sight of the injury, where he had been nicked by the sharp end of a silver knife. He grunted in discomfort._

_Casey found that it was imperative to never, ever get on Bartowski's bad side. _

_He whispered, "God help the poor bastards that do."_

_**~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~***_

"Casey? Casey!"

Casey snapped back into reality. He was met with the computer monitor, Sam Winchester's face staring right back at him. He cleared his throat and began to glance over the personal file.

None of the information gathered was ground-breaking or new to him. Before letting Chuck go anywhere, he had made sure to run background checks on his "friends."

"Please say you found something informative," Sarah's voice verged on exasperation.

"He's dead, Sarah."

Sitting in the recliner chair, Sarah looked up to Casey, her mouth parted like she wanted to say something but couldn't spit it out.

"What are you talking about? That can't be right…."

She came rushing over to where he sat, examining the monitor in stunned surprise. Her brows knitted together and she tried desperately to make sense of it all. Casey could tell she was failing miserably.

She argued in soft undertones. "But, but Chuck…he got a text from him."

The screen displaying Sam Winchester's profile read "Deceased" in big **red** lettering. Sarah gaped in disbelief while Casey started to scroll through the bio, reabsorbing what he had learned from his previous background checks.

He read out loud:

"In February of 2008, both Sam and his brother Dean Winchester were arrested by the FBI on suspicions of several crimes varying from trespassing, grave-robbing, resisting arrest, assault on a police officer, kidnapping, and murder. They got themselves locked up in a small town prison in Monument, Colorado. There was a gas leak and the place blew up, killing everyone inside, including the two fugitive brothers."

He scratched his cheek absentmindedly and then looked to Sarah for a reaction. She was barely listening to anything he said. Her sights zoned in on Sam Winchester's personal file instead.

Samuel Winchester was born on May 2, 1983 to John and Mary Winchester. He has one older brother, Dean, his senior of about four years. His birthplace was in Lawrence, Kansas. Six months after birth, Mary Winchester was killed in a house fire that burnt the whole home to ashes.

"His mother died in a fire," Sarah murmured.

Casey raised a brow. "Yeah, so what of it?"

"Chuck just told me that Sam's girlfriend had died in a fire as well."

"That'd be a good theory, you know, if Winchester was capable of murdering his mother as a newborn," he replied deadpan. "I don't think he went and purposely killed his girlfriend."

"I wasn't alluding to that."

"Then what were you alluding to?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "Nothing; never mind. I just found it kind of a coincidence that both his mother and girlfriend had died in the exact same manner."

"It is weird," Casey agreed, relenting some of his prior knowledge. "I'll give you that."

"It says here also, that in 2006, John Winchester had suffered a heart attack and was declared dead in a hospital following a car accident that he and his sons were a part of…." Sarah scanned the page. "They were t-boned by a semi-truck."

Casey cringed inwardly.

"So where does this bring us?" he asked her suddenly.

He hoped she'd let things go and maybe give Chuck a good head start before sending in the cavalry.

"Chuck's connected to this Sam Winchester," she decided objectively. "I have no doubt in my mind. And anyone can fake their deaths if they have the right resources."

"You're basically saying that the Winchester brothers are alive and kicking and for some reason, Bartowski is going off the grid to what?" Casey played along, dropping subtle hints as much as he could possibly allow.

"To help them," Sarah answered. "He probably thinks they're innocent and now he wants to clear their names."

"You really think that's the case?"

"I don't really know what else to think."

Casey leaned back into his chair and sighed.

"What do we do now?"

Sarah stared off into space for awhile, just thinking. She considered her choices: either tell Beckman the truth and find Chuck through the US government's aid. Or, going rogue and finding him herself. But that would be far riskier and could end badly.

In the end, she had made her decision.

"I'm going to the Castle. I'll grab what I need and then track down Chuck myself."

Casey grunted back in response. "You sure you want to do this?"

She nodded. "I can deal with the repercussions, trust me."

Casey understood the reasoning behind this. _She can't deal with Bartowski getting caught and sent straight to an underground bunker, or worse, her being reassigned for losing him in the first place._

Massaging his eyes with the heels of his hands, Casey thought this plan through. Sure, he'll let Sarah leave and go after the moron. But he won't accompany her, he decided, far too many reasons that it would be a very, very bad idea.

So he suggested, "You go find Bartowski. I'll stay here and cover for the both of you. General Beckman would get suspicious otherwise."

"Thank you Casey."

He grunted, which Sarah only could translate it into being his way of saying, "You're welcome."

"Can you do me one more favor though?" she asked as she headed to the door.

"What is it?"

"Get me Chuck's file."

"Why? We already have it, got it in the database two years ago when Operation Bartowski was created."

"Go further. I have a hunch that Orion might have interfered with the file, edited certain information out as a precaution."

Casey had to hand it to Walker. She was good. Scary good.

"A precaution for what?"

"To cover Chuck's tracks," she said. "Maybe he's more involved with the Winchesters then we think."

Casey muttered, "After all he did drug you. That's not exactly something he'd do if he was just out to help a friend in need, huh?"

Sarah rested a hand on the doorframe, watching Casey skeptically. Her eyes narrowed down when she saw the faint twitch of uneasiness infect his facial features. It made her wonder….

"Did you know that Chuck was going to run?"

He growled lowly, turning his back on her in shame. _Dammit, dammit, god dammit! Why is it so hard for me to lie to her? I'm getting too soft._

"Would you think that maybe Bartowski had a good reason for leaving?"

Anger materialized in Sarah's gaze. "Possibly, but that doesn't excuse him from doing it in the first place. Now he is out in the world, without our protection. Who knows what trouble he's going to get into."

He scoffed. "Walker, you want me to tell you something? Chuck does not need our protection. He never has! In fact, for the longest time, he's been trying to protect you."

Shocked by Casey's outburst, Sarah turned her back and stormed out of the apartment. She needed to get to Castle quickly. It was in her best interests to be all set to depart at dawn.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

A few hours later, Sarah was just about ready to go. She had tossed everything needed for "Chuck hunting" in the back of her Porsche. She slammed the trunk down and rounded to the driver's side of the car. She gulped down her third whole energy drink and felt the buzz of caffeine kick in.

"This stuff is disgusting," she remarked with a suppressed gag.

She slid into the car; punched in the destination in the GPS system and was ready to leave. Her eyes widened from the sugar intake and she felt unusually jittery. Like it or not, Sarah knew she couldn't afford to fall asleep. Not anytime soon anyway. The longer she slept, the further Chuck would be from her. And if she were to fall asleep, she'd be met with those terrifying nightmares that she had been having. She tapped the side of her face to keep herself alert.

Just as she was about to turn on the car, her cell rang. It was Casey.

"That was quick. Do you have it?"

"Yeah, I got it. You were right, Orion had altered parts of Chuck's file. I used some of my connections and got a techie to decrypt it."

"Send it," she said firmly.

She heard a sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Walker, I should warn you—"

"Just send it already!" She snapped into the receiver. She was running low on patience.

"Brace yourself," he told her.

Sarah used her fingers to manipulate the touch screen monitor set up at the front of the Porsche. She waited anxiously for the information to flow through. Suddenly, Chuck's file popped up.

It appeared to be identical to what she had read a couple years prior. He was born in Hartford, Connecticut on September 18, 1980. He moved around a lot, went to Stanford and was expelled for cheating on a test. Everything she already knew was there, unchanged.

"Where is it?" she said to herself.

And there it was. Chuck's criminal record. Something that was once a clean slate, save for his expulsion from college, was now brimming with felonies. He was wanted for assorted theft, credit card fraud, breaking and entering, grave-robbing, grand theft auto, speeding, and attempted murder.

At first, Sarah was sure it was a joke. A clever, thought-out joke. The Chuck she knew was kind and caring, abhorred violence and would never think of breaking laws. He didn't even like shooting a gun! For so long, she thought Chuck Bartowski couldn't hurt a fly. Now she was done living under that false assumption.

Sarah questioned whether Ellie knew about her brother's past. She was in that photo, implicating herself with the Winchester family.

"What about Ellie?" she spoke cautiously.

"Her too."

She sighed unhappily. What were the Bartowskis hiding? They were more duplicitous than spies for God's sake. Could there be something so bad that occurred in their pasts that it had to be eradicated?

"You still there?" Casey asked, concerned.

"Yes, I am," she said in a hushed whisper. "Thanks Casey. I'll update you soon."

"OK Walker. Be careful."

The line went dead. Silence enveloped the car and Sarah took the time to absorb everything she had learned in the last twenty-four hours. Turning the touch screen off, she jammed the keys into the car and the engine roared to life.

She pressed the radio button on and music that reminded her of Chuck filled the car. She felt weak and powerless. But she still pursued on, leaving the grey skies behind her as she headed east.

**_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_**

**_10 Hours Later…_**

**_Somewhere in Arizona_**

"Hi Ellie, its Sarah again. I'm sorry that I've been leaving so many messages today; it's just that I really, really need to talk to you. It's important, it's about Chuck. So when you have time, can you please give me a call? Thanks."

Sarah ended the call with an angry huff. She was just about ready to roll down the window and toss the useless piece of technology out of the moving vehicle. Instead, she held it tightly in a vice-like grip; exercising it as a means of diminishing the stress she had swelling in her chest.

_I've called Ellie seven times in the last ten hours or so, _She mused. _Each time, she doesn't answer. It started with the phone ringing a few times before going to voice mail, now it's like she turned it completely off._

She sighed in frustration.

"She knew about Chuck's disappearance and so she's ignoring me."

Chewing on her lip to keep her thoughts cohesive and focused, Sarah nearly swerved off the dusty road when her stomached lurched.

"Perfect timing," she said sarcastically.

Sarah rested a hand on her belly as it gurgled for food. Luckily, she saw a diner in the middle of the desert, almost like an oasis. She smiled thankfully and pulled off the path to fill up on gas and grab a quick meal.

Inside, the place was mostly desolate. A few people were seated sporadically across the booths and bar tables. Sarah took a seat on a vacant stool and gave in to the weariness of her long journey.

_Not even halfway there_, she realized bitterly.

A waitress approached her from behind the counter. She nicely asked for a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. The woman gave her a cup of liquid goodness and Sarah drank it while half-heartedly watching the news displayed on the TV overhead.

There was acid rain in Alaska while it snowed in the Persian Gulf and there was a heat wave in Moscow. The weather was becoming increasingly difficult to prepare for and news reporters were truly confounded by these disastrous changes in climate.

_It's the end of the world as we know it, _she hummed in her head. It was ironic that the song had just finished playing on the radio right before making this pit stop. Her lips curved into a sorrowful frown. _And I don't feel fine._

When the news skipped to commercials, Sarah finished her first coffee. She waited for her eggs to be served to her and as she looked around aimlessly, the return of a white hot searing pain gripped at her wrist.

"Ouch!" she hissed and clasped a hand onto the glowing white bracelet.

"That is a nice bracelet you have," a voice spoke above her agony.

Sarah turned her head to see the man in the trench coat sitting on the stool beside her. Instantly, she forgot about the pain in her wrist and gasped in fright at the man's sudden appearance. She had clearly not expected this.

"You," she said accusingly.

The man tilted his head to the side but did not smile. He looked grave and unfazed by the pain she endured.

"Go home, Sarah Walker," he advised her strongly. "You are stubborn and foolish to think that what you're doing is in any way just. You do not know what you are facing and Chuck would be more beneficial without you being in his presence."

Sarah said determinedly, "Listen, whoever you think you are. I'm not going anywhere."

"It's unwise to keep looking for someone who does not want to be found," the man replied wisely.

_Chuck doesn't want to be found?_

"What makes you think that Chuck wants to just disappear?"

Blue eyes bore into hers. His were serene and calm while Sarah's resembled that of bluebell flames. They flashed wildly behind her irises. He sighed.

"I will not hinder you from continuing on looking for him," he revealed. "It is well within your right as a human being to make your own decisions. You have free will. But I'm warning you, what lies ahead will change you. It will change you like it has changed countless others."

"I won't rest until I find Chuck," she declared, looking straight into his eyes.

He nodded sagely. "I know. That will be your undoing, Sarah. Just as it will be his as well."

She averted her eyes, not knowing how to process this, nor come up with a coherent response. When she lifted her gaze back to the man, he had vanished.

And for the second time, the bracelet ceased to burn.

* * *

End Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Letting the Cables Sleep

AN: Oooh, and so the mystery continues! Next time: We find out where Chuck is, clues to what he's doing and what the Winchesters' have to do with it.

Please review and give me your thoughts!!!


	4. Letting the Cables Sleep

An: Thanks yet again for the great reviews! You guys rock. I hope this is more action-orientated than the last three previous chapters. More characters are introduced and I hope I got them down...It's hard to write those damn Winchester boys. Even though all they do is say "Dude, Son of a bitch, Bastard, Hell, and Apocalypse..." and you can't forget Dean's cheesy jokes. Gotta love the man's wit. Anyway, Here's chapter 4. Chapter five should be on its way this weekend, possibly Saturday if I'm feeling happy. Woot.

Thanks to ersk4 once more for being my uber awesome Beta.

Oh and I don't own Chuck nor do I own Supernatural.

* * *

**Chapter 4- Letting the Cables Sleep**

"You in the dark  
You in the pain  
You on the run  
Living a hell  
Living your ghost  
Living your end  
Never seem to get in the place that I belong  
Don't wanna lose the time  
Lose the time to come"

- Letting the Cables Sleep, Bush.

~*~

**Chappell Hill, Texas**

**Sunrise**

In the cold misty morning, he woke up to the glaring rays of dawn. He sat in the tousled bed, sheets torn astray leaving him lying there bare and vulnerable. The sun beamed down on his face and he squinted to adjust to the new day.

He rubbed his face lazily, pausing only when he felt somebody else's blood dried into his skin. Most had crumbled away the night before, while he was tossing and turning restlessly in his sleep.

His hand slid down from his cheek and rested on his torso. Chest rising up and down in a steady rhythm, he stared listlessly at the tacky paper covering the walls of the second-rate motel room. He ran his fingers through his mussed up hair as he yearned desperately for one night's sleep where his conscience would not betray him.

His eyes sagged exhaustedly. Just as he was going to be overcome by sleep, he felt a rush of wind blow through the enclosed room. There was a fluttering of what sounded like bird's wings and he let out an exasperated sigh.

A voice spoke above the silence.

"Chuck, are you awake?"

Chuck flipped over onto his side and faced the owner of the voice.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked groggily.

The man nodded. "It is six in the morning."

Burying his face into the pillow, Chuck suppressed a moan.

"You know that was a rhetorical question, right?"

A pair of blue eyes grew confused. The man simply tilted his head to the side in childlike obliviousness.

"Why are you here, Cas?" Chuck's muffled voice asked tiredly.

The expression on Castiel's normally stoic face loosened up considerably.

"I came to tell you that I had spoken with Sarah—"

Chuck flung the pillow out from beneath him and bolted upright. All traces of sleep deprivation vanished at the mere mention of Sarah's name. His brown eyes became transfixed on the other man; they were wild and eager for news.

"When did you talk with her? Where is she? Is she all right? Cas, tell me everything."

The man in the trenchcoat was taken by surprise at Chuck's more-than enthusiastic attitude.

"She is fine, I assure you," he replied calmly. "But she is a very stubborn human. She does not back down easily."

Chuck rolled his eyes. Sarah wasn't one of the CIA's top agents for nothing.

"Where is she?" he asked again, this time with more urgency.

"I last spoke with her in a small diner, halfway across Arizona. That was last afternoon and at this moment, she is currently driving through New Mexico."

Chuck absorbed this while leaving the bed and quickly getting dressed.

_She's closing in on me,_ he mused thoughtfully,_ didn't expect anything less from her. Just wish I planned ahead for when she does find me. It's not exactly going to be the easiest thing to explain to her what's going on. Hopefully, she'll be open to reason. Sarah's pretty receptive to the truth, right?_ The anxiety bubbling below the surface made Chuck think otherwise. _She's going to think I'm nuts._

Still deep in thought, Chuck slipped into an old faded pair of jeans (tarnished with mud and blood) and then tossed a blood-stained shirt over his head; finally he shrugged on a jacket. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he began tying his Converse shoes.

Pulling on his shoelaces tightly, he inquired with a knowing grin. "I'm assuming she didn't listen to the little pep talk you gave her, huh?"

Castiel scowled. "Yes. She's as single-minded as Dean."

Chuck laughed. "I think it's just a common personality trait that runs in certain driven individuals I guess."

"You think she might help us?"

He planted both feet on the ground and headed toward the bathroom at the end of the room. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Castiel giving him a perplexed look.

"I honestly don't know," he said mostly to himself. "I don't really want her to, for obvious reasons." In the bathroom, he stared into his reflection and saw red smudged all over his face. He sighed and muttered, "Knowing my luck, she'll say yes."

The faucet turned on and hot water poured into the sink. Chuck proceeded to clean his face off, red circling down the drain. He used the rag to pat his face dry; opening his eyes he stared back into the mirror and saw that Castiel was literally right behind him.

"Dammit, Cas!" he yelped, almost jumping into the air. "Hasn't Dean taught you to respect others' boundaries yet?"

"Oh, I apologize."

He backed up out of Chuck's personal space. As Chuck set down the now red towel, he turned to face Castiel and say something. But he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," Chuck called out.

The door opened and two men walked inside. They were dressed similar to Chuck: clothed in tattered jeans, shirts and layer upon layer of jackets. The shorter of the two spoke first.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted, too overly cheerful for anybody's likes.

Chuck exited the bathroom with Castiel and all four of them met at the center of the dingy motel room.

"Ha ha," Chuck replied dryly. "I'm glad your humor remained intact after all these years."

"Dude, Armageddon itself can't stop my wit."

"Moderation is always a good thing, Dean," the tallest jabbed at him.

"You're the last person in the world who gets to lecture me on moderation."

Castiel exchanged a look with Chuck. Both were nonplussed by the brothers' bickering.

Impatient, Chuck intervened. "Personally, I think it's too early to fight. So guys, if you can tone it down…?"

Dean glared at his brother. "Bitch."

Sam smirked. "Jerk."

Chuck clasped his hands together. "Great. Now that we got that out of the way, maybe someone can clue me in on why we're up so early?"

The relatively light atmosphere surrounding the room had intensified into a foreboding tension. Chuck looked between both brothers and Castiel.

"Somebody say something because I'm starting to draw my own conclusions here, and none of them end very positively."

Sam's face became grim. "Chuck, we got a problem."

"A problem?" he reiterated. "We _always _have a problem. For example, the apocalypse. That is a big problem."

The Winchester brothers went quiet. Castiel shifted uncomfortably. Chuck was starting to lose his composure.

It was Dean who decided to get to the point.

"It has to do with Blondie—"

Sam stepped on his foot.

"—I mean your girlfriend."

Chuck's voice wavered, "Sarah?" He glanced at Cas briefly. "But he just told me she was safe!"

"No one's safe, Chuck," Sam replied sadly.

"Yeah," Dean agreed with his brother, "Especially when they are bumpin' uglies with one of us. (Chuck shot him daggers.) Their mortality rate sky-rockets like it's nobody's business."

Chuck stared at his feet, all his thoughts directed at Sarah. He knew getting back into the hunt was going to involve danger—for everyone. For himself, his family and friends…mostly for those he loved like Sarah. But he had to do it, had to. Like how Sarah was fated to become a spy, he was destined to do this.

The blood ran through his family's veins. It was a legacy brought upon by tragedy. It was in his calling, just as it was his father's, grandfather's, and great-grandfather's.

This wasn't a choice, it was his duty. The spy life could wait. His aspirations for normalcy could also wait. And Sarah? Well, love would have to wait as well.

He slowly lifted his head to meet his solid gaze with the three other men. It hurt him to reject his feelings and bury them away. But there was a job to be done.

"Tell me what's after her," he said unwaveringly. "We deal with it and then move on."

~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Clovis, New Mexico**

**Late Morning **

Sarah was only miles away from the Texas border.

_Almost there,_ she thought joyfully. _This is the final home stretch._

Ever since her confrontation with the man in the trenchcoat, Sarah had driven nonstop. Her drive to find Chuck outweighed the need for rest, now more than ever. She only stopped for gas, the bathroom and if she couldn't help it, food.

In her palm was yet another energy drink. It was unhealthy, she told herself repeatedly, to drive on a sugar high for long periods of time. Eventually, there would be a crash. It would slow her down and she could lose whatever lead she had on Chuck. It also would bring on sleep. Something that Sarah wanted to avoid like the plague.

Minutes of driving through what was basically a desert, Sarah had thankfully approached the state borderline. She pulled up to the IRS station, flashed her CIA ID and moved on. No words were spoken.

She was now in Texas. Most of it was still desert, but the longer she drove, she found civilization. There was a sign stuck in the side of a road that stated Highway 290 was nearby. If she followed that all the way through the grand state, Sarah was certain it'd land her in her final destination: Chappell Hill.

Hours passed in the resolute silence of only her steady breaths and the sound of the Porsche racing down the highway. Interrupting the solidarity was the ring of her phone.

Eyes on the road, Sarah reached over to claim the phone. She placed it on speaker and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sarah?" a familiar voice greeted, accompanied with its own brand of irritation.

Sarah did not need to read the caller ID to know who it was.

"Hi Morgan," she said trying to be polite. "What's up? I'm kind of busy—"

"Oh, I'll make it quick."

_Please do._

Morgan asked, "Have you seen Chuck? He's not answering his phone and I was wondering if maybe you're with him?"

"Chuck's with me," she lied effortlessly. "We're in the middle of a road trip."

_That's not completely a bold faced lie. It's more like a false-truth._

She heard Morgan sigh through the receiver. Maybe she wasn't the only one who was freaking out about Chuck.

"Can I talk to him really quick?" he said after a short pause.

"He's actually asleep, Morgan."

"Oh."

"He was driving for the longest time; I thought it'd be good if he took a break," she explained sweetly. "Do you want to leave him a message? I'll be glad to tell him you called once he wakes up."

"OK, can you tell him that a guy named Bobby called?"

_Bobby? That's a new name. _

"Sure, can I ask why?"

"It's not a big deal," Morgan said dismissively. "He just wanted to let Chuck know that he fixed up Mr. B's old car."

Confused, Sarah replied, "Is that it?"

"Yep, oh and Ellie came over yesterday. She wanted to know if Chuck had bought enough salt."

It sounded as though the bearded man was speaking in code. This meant he was probably in on Chuck's secret.

_Terrific, _she glowered. _Not only does Casey know more than I do, but so does Morgan?_

"I'll be sure to tell Chuck that," she said between gritted teeth. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

"Oh! There's one more thing!"

Sarah felt her blood boil.

"Yes?"

"Yesterday at the Buy More, Jeff and Lester theorized that the store is haunted."

_Why does this matter?_

Morgan chuckled a bit. "It probably kind of has to do with Emmitt's death. But anyway, they were on the computer, you know looking for how to exorcise an evil spirit or whatever."

Annoyed, she growled, "Is there a point to this story, Morgan?"

Ignoring her, he continued rambling on. "And they found this awesome website. It tells you how to fight the supernatural and I thought it was pretty legitimate. These guys are called the Ghostfacers – got their own theme song and everything – and they're a lot like the Ghost Hunters, but a lot less douchey."

"That sounds interesting," she said even though she couldn't care less.

_He says one more thing and Chuck's best friend or not, I'm hanging up on the troll._

"Just tell Chuck that, will you? He'll get a kick out of it."

"Will do," she told him.

And without waiting for a reply, Sarah ended the call. She took her phone and tossed it in the back of the car, ignoring its continuous ringing as she focused back on her mission.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Chappell Hill, Texas**

**Historical Society Museum**

**Afternoon**

He cleaned off the blood crusted knife with his shirt. A body toppled over onto the slick floor; face down in a pool of its own bodily fluid. Hiding the dagger back in the leg-holster, Chuck bent down onto one knee and studied the tiny crumbs littered on the floor.

Sam came sprinting up to him. He examined the handy work and then knelt down beside his friend.

"Didn't know you could fight that well," he said as he indicated the trail of bodies scattered throughout the room.

Chuck picked up a yellow-tinged rock, rubbing it between his fingers, his nose scrunched up in distaste.

"I got better," he told him smoothly.

_It's just yet another person I get to lie to. Sam and Dean can't know about me being a spy and Sarah can't know about this. _Chuck was really beginning to hate himself right then.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"More sulfur," Chuck replied. "The stuff is everywhere in this damn town."

At this, Sam stood up. He rubbed his chin in thought. Chuck got up to his feet also, his hands dropping useless at his sides.

"The town is being infested by these sons of bitches," Sam deduced. "Hell, the whole place is overrun by death…."

His voice died away and then something in his head clicked.

Sam looked to Chuck, who had the same look of realization on his face. Their eyes widened comically and they spoke in unison.

"Death!"

"Crap this is not good timing." Chuck groaned, shaking his head.

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Dean?" he began without introductions. "Dude, we figured it out. It's another one of the four horsemen. Get the Impala and pick us up."

There was a quick pause. Chuck kept staring at his sulfur-covered hands. His lips formed into a frown, barely registering the pent up terror he felt boiling beneath his skin.

"We're at the Historical Society Museum. Get here as fast as you can. More of them might be on their way and Chuck and I can't hold them all off by ourselves."

Sam ended the call and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He gave Chuck a forlorn look. His hand clasped on his friend's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

"It's okay, we'll get this handled. Sarah won't be in any danger, I promise."

Chuck nodded, lost in his own thoughts.

_Please Sarah, turn back now, _he begged in vain. _I can't lose you to this…._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

**Chappell Hill, Texas**

**Dusk**

"_You're now entering Chappell Hill, Texas,"_ the sign welcomed. _"One of the oldest towns in Texas!"_

The Porsche sped past the town's entrance, kicking up dirt as it gathered speed. For the longest time, Sarah had been driving through the coastal plains, where the majority of it was rolling hills, lush and green.

She grinned triumphantly. Yes, she was finally here.

_Hold on, Chuck. I'm coming._

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, it was only six thirty. She made perfect time. The easy part was over. Now came the hard part: finding Chuck.

So many thoughts ran through her brain when it dawned on her that Chuck was within her grasp. She wondered what she would do once she found him. A part of her wanted nothing more than to hug him and never let go. To tell him how much of a selfish idiot he is and should never had left her behind. But then she was reminded of all the things he never told her.

_He has more skeletons in his closet than me and Casey combined,_ she said to herself. _When I find him, I want to know everything. I want real answers…_

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened when Sarah contemplated whether she was going to resort to using force when bringing Chuck back. He was a man she no longer knew and god knows if he was a real threat.

_Sometimes it seemed like he was always holding back._

Chuck also had the new Intersect in his brain. He had the ability to do extraordinary things now. Who knew if he had tamed the computer and had learned to control his flashes?

Sarah shook her head from these troubling notions. She couldn't bear to think of these scenarios any longer. The more she thought, the deeper she'd fall into the realization of what she _might _have to do. That alone tormented her.

Her eyes stared absently into the windshield, watching the sun's descent. A thick layer of fog rolled over the deserted road, swallowing the Porsche whole. Sarah flicked on the headlights and the beams cut through the endless haze, illuminating a visible path.

Stressed out, Sarah decided it was best to have music on to soothe her. She turned on the radio and she felt herself relax.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Chappell Hill, Texas**

**Sundown **

A 1967 Chevy Impala flew down the empty roads, maneuvering its way through the mist.

"You think the fog's an omen?" a gruff voice asked.

Chuck sat in the backseat with a laptop resting on his knees. The soft glow from the monitor shone on his face. He was in a deep meditative state. His eyes darted side to side as he read the various websites, searching for something useful.

"Do you even need to ask?" Sam said darkly. "It came out of nowhere. It's just another sign that these bastards have taken over. Death is trying to trap us here forever."

"Well ain't that just peachy," Dean grunted from behind the wheel.

Sam sighed. He looked over his shoulder and asked Chuck.

"You find anything yet?"

Chuck looked up from the computer, both eyes were wary and bloodshot.

"Yeah, we're looking for a 'pale green' muscle car."

"Got that, Dean?"

"Crystal clear, Sammy. Let's get this son of a bitch."

Chuck closed the laptop and leaned back into the leather upholstery. He shut his eyes momentarily to catch his breath. It was hard to think straight knowing that Sarah was en route to possibly one of the most dangerous places in the entire country.

Regaining some of his vigor, his eyes reopened only to be met with a new arrival in the car.

Chuck held back a shout of surprise. He still could not get used to the random popping out of nowhere.

"I thought it was impossible for you to track us?" he whispered skeptically.

Castiel replied, "True. However, I can still find the car."

Chuck smiled shakily, "Loophole, nice."

"Cas, what's the update?" Dean's voice boomed within the confines of the Impala.

"I have located Sarah. She has just entered the town. As of now, she is still alive."

At this, Chuck felt sick. It was only a matter of time before Sarah was going to be in real danger. And she won't be able to defend herself either. In his experience, normal guns and knives don't do squat with what she would be confronting. He feared once he did finally find her, it would be too late and Sarah would be dead. Lost forever and he'd have no choice but to blame himself for her death.

"Is there any way of trying to get her to turn back?" he asked, tense.

"She does not like me very much," Cas said despairingly. "I doubt she would listen to anything I say."

"Can you try, please?"

Without answering, there was the flapping of wings and then he was gone. Chuck was left alone in the backseat once more. His fingers fondled the hilt of the sheathed knife wrapped around his thigh. The risk of peril for Sarah was escalating by the second and as it would continue to climb, Chuck felt the beginnings of a flash loom just behind his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Chappell Hill, Texas**

**Twilight**

When Sarah began hallucinating, she knew the fatigue had gotten the best of her.

The fog was letting up somewhat when she looked out the side window and saw the man wearing the trenchcoat standing on the edge of the road, holding his hands up in a stopping gesture. Sarah massaged her eyes in disbelief. She checked the window once more and saw…nothing.

_After this is over, I'm going to put myself into a sleep-induced coma. _

Feeling slightly frightened by the apparition she had seen, she turned the volume of the radio even louder. It blared through the car's speakers, drowning out all the fear she felt.

The next time she exhaled, her breath was visible. It suddenly had gotten freezing inside the car. The drop in temperature was staggering and Sarah couldn't believe her eyes. While all of this was happening, one eye strayed back to the fogged-up window, praying that this was all just some freaky coincidence.

The man in the beige trenchcoat was back. This time he was mouthing at her to stop. He waved his hands around wildly. Sarah was sure she could actually hear him yelling.

"Stop!"

"Turn back, it's not safe!"

"You'll die!"

Sarah eyes grew wide as saucers. What the hell was going on? Sadly, things grew worse when her radio's reception started to come in and out of static. The stations began to change at a rapid pace, never stopping on one specific channel.

"What the hell…?" she muttered.

The radio finally landed on a music station. The song that started to play chilled Sarah to the bone.

"_I see the bad moon arising._

_I see trouble is on the way._

_I see earthquakes and lightning._

_I see bad times today."_

She tried frantically to switch the station, pressing several buttons, turning different knobs but nothing happened. The eerie song continued to play.

"_Don't go around tonight."_

The fog became impossible to see through. Her headlights flickered on and off before they just shut down, leaving her helpless.

"_Well, it's bound to take your life."_

No longer could she hear nor see the man's voice beg her to turn around and leave. It was too late, she lost her chance.

Two bright lights came at her.

Her reaction was delayed but she spun the wheel as hard as she could.

The car swerved to the left and missed colliding with whatever was heading toward her.

Everything spun out of control. Sarah was indefinitely lost in the fog. All she knew was the horrible screeching sound of her car grinding against something; losing its balance and the odd sensation of being flipped into the air only to fall upside down.

The crash landing was both swift and excruciating.

Sarah felt her head slam against the steering wheel and then the air bag deployed. The seat-belt dug into her chest and forbid her to move. There was blood running down her face, arms and legs. Cuts and bruises were inflicted on her body along with a jagged piece of glass protruding out of her side.

She wanted to scream.

Scream for Chuck.

Scream for somebody, anybody to come save her.

But nothing would come out.

There was a burst of roaring thunder overhead.

And for the first time since all hell broke loose, Sarah wept until she slipped into unconsciousness.

"_There's a bad moon on the rise."_

* * *

End Chapter 4.

Next Chapter- Paradise Lost

AN: Cliffie, muahhh. I hope I wrote this half as good as I envisioned it. Its kinda like LOST; I answer some questions but then throw about ten times as many for you to think about. Then you go WTF at the end and blame JJ Abrams for messing with your mind. Food for thought: Actor, Mark Peligrino, who plays Jacob on Lost was a Fulcrum agent on Chuck and is Lucifer on SPN. And.......was Rita's ex hubby on Dexter. Dude has been around!

Can't wait to post chapter 5, It'll test my action writing abilities.


	5. Paradise Lost

AN: Screw it, I've decided to post the chapter early. I'm leaving for Thanksgiving Vacation early next week so I want to get this first part of the series finished before then. Thank you readers for the reviews, once again. Enjoy this chapter and R&R.

I thank my beta, ersk4 for being so awesome.

* * *

**Chapter 5- Paradise Lost**

"Looking down from the ethereal skies  
Silent crystalline tears I cry  
For all those who say their last goodbye  
To paradise…"

–Paradise Lost, Symphony X

~*~

**Chappell Hill, Texas**

**Twilight**

_Love is a tragedy...._

_She opens her eyes, the sunlit world blurs in and out of focus. Her weary mind can barely comprehend her muddled thoughts. A breath of wind slips over her slender form; blades of grass tickle her face. _

_There is a sense that something is amiss. She does not remember lying in a field—a garden of flowers, a mixture of bright vibrant colors. Her memory is fragile, but she does recall the feeling of unimaginable pain. _

_She sits up and looks around. Is she dead? _

"_Sarah…."_

_Her vision clears and she looks at the figure in front of her. He stands in the sunshine, his body drenched in the shadows casted from the apple tree in which Sarah rests by. He lingers just within her reach, lively brown eyes land on hers. His curly hair sways in the warm breeze._

"_Chuck." She can only say his name. _

_Unfazed, he kneels down beside her. He brings out his right hand and presents her a flower, a white lily. _

"'_Was she thy God, lovely to attract,'" he quotes in an otherworldly voice. "'Thy love, not thy subjection.'" (1)_

_Sarah takes the flower from his hand, spinning the stem around as she bows her head to smell the petals and embrace its lovely aroma. _

_The wind blows again, fields of flowers dance in the air. She lifts her head up to Chuck. He smiles sadly, takes the lily from her hand and tucks it behind her ear. _

_She leans into his touch, feeling his hand caress her cheek, his fingertips skimming over the surface of her flushed skin. She shudders when he pulls back. She opens her eyes and looks at him. His face is grave and solemn. _

"_What's wrong?" she asks._

_He tells her in a whisper, "You need to leave, Sarah." _

"_Leave? Why? I won't go, not without you." _

"_You must, or else we will stay forever apart."_

_Her brows furrow in confusion. "I-I don't understand."_

_He takes her hands in his own. He says while holding on to her, _"_The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n." (2)_

_The garden is suddenly shrouded in complete darkness. The warm sunny day grows cold and lifeless. The lily wilts behind Sarah's ear; petals dry up and crumble into nothingness. Fertile pastures of grass wither and curl into limp weeds. _

_Everything is dead. All trace of the perfect haven, the ultimate paradise is forever lost to temptation and sin. _

"_Sarah," Chuck bores into her frightened sapphire eyes. There is a tinge of gold burning behind his brown steely gaze. "Wake up."_

_He releases her from his grasp; Sarah feels agony infect her heart. She winces. And it is then that she first feels pain, like a blade grinding into her bones continuously and infinitely. She inhales sharply and loses her breath._

"_C-Chuck, help me…." she begs and pleads. _

_He watches her, but does not come to her aid. Her vision blurs and she can no longer see him. Eyes slide closed and she falls hard on the barren ground._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

She felt so…trapped.

Sarah woke up hanging upside down, all the blood rushing into her head. Groaning, her eyes opened rather uncoordinatedly and huge spots obstructed her vision. It took a while, but soon pieces fell into place and she remembered with startling clarity where she was and what had happened.

_Car crash,_ was the first thing that popped into her mind.

When her sightlessness had retreated and she was now able to see, Sarah found herself caught inside a fortress of jagged metal. It surrounded her, barring escape. She tried to pull herself up, but was thwarted by the seatbelt restricting her ability to move. She let out a soundless cry of frustration, and became still.

A rumbling of thunder and then a stroke of lightning illuminated the sky above. Her mind wandered, contemplating her chances of freedom. She felt cold. Her breath was still visible to the naked eye. Silent raindrops began their assault on the underside of the flipped Porsche. A stinging numbness began to take hold of her wounded body.

Hopelessness began to set in. She was alone in the middle of a road not often traveled in the dead of night. Optimism wore thin and dark thoughts spread through her like a virus.

_Why did I have to wake up? _Sarah thought remorsefully. _I'm going to die tonight no matter what happens, awake or asleep. At least I could've been with Chuck during my last moments…._

A dull rumbling reached her ears, bringing her back to reality. She strained her ears to figure out the noise. Maybe she was imaging the sound?

The rumbling grew louder and louder until the unmistakable sound of an engine stopped somewhere near the steel prison. There was relief in Sarah's sigh. Expectations of her savior gave her the strength to move her aching body in the direction of the footsteps.

_I need to get this belt off me or my ribs will snap from the pressure._

Sarah reached a bloody hand to her back, to where one of her stainless steel blades was hidden. She drew it out, the silver gleaming in the night. With the swipe of her dexterous wrist, she cut through the belt and she was freed.

She broke into a fit of coughs once the pressure on her ribs had been relieved. Now she supported her body in the seat so she would remain suspended and not come crashing down onto the hood of the car. Leaning forward, she opened up the glove box with a swift kick. She grimaced, holding back a cry of pain. But the box sprang open and revealed a handgun residing within.

There was a thud and the footsteps grew more rapid. Her rescuer fell to his knees, the damp ground squelching beneath him. In the pitch black, Sarah felt a surge of joy rush through her veins when she was sure who had come for her.

"Chuck…!"

A beam of light shone through the cracked window and fell on her face. She squinted blindly and her blissful state came to an abrupt end when she realized that this man was not Chuck.

"My lord, are you alright?" an unfamiliar voice asked with concern.

Sarah grabbed the gun before the man could point his flashlight in that direction. She flicked the safety off in precaution; she quickly stuffed it in her waistband.

The flashlight flickered back to her and the man asked once more.

"Are you hurt, miss?"

_You think? _Sarah would've rolled her eyes if she was not in so much pain.

"Can you help me out?" she said hoarsely. "I'm trapped in here."

"Sure, of course!"

The man set down the flashlight on the asphalt and offered out a hand for Sarah to grab. She slowly lowered herself to the hood and took the man's left hand. His grip on her was strong and he began to pull her out of the twisting metal and glass. Her stomach slid across the broken window; glass shards dug into her flesh and she felt blood pour from these new wounds.

"Almost out," the man said reassuringly. "Just one more tug and—"

Sarah crawled from out of the wreck. She was on all fours, her knife in her opposite hand while her gun was safely stashed in her waistband. She fell into another brief bout of coughs, blood trickling from her cut lips and plopping onto the wet road.

"Thank you," she croaked.

The man reclaimed the flashlight and proceeded to help Sarah up to her feet. Sarah wobbled unbalanced, shaking violently while the icy rain fell from the heavens.

"Not a problem, young lady. May I ask what the devil happened?" he inquired politely.

Sarah wiped her face with one hand, blood smeared onto her open palm. She looked up to the man, seeing him clearly for the first time.

"I honestly can't tell you," she said in a whisper. "There was fog, a lot of it, and then…."

She took in his appearance. He was an older man, middle-aged and well dressed. His raven hair was thinning and he had a pair of hollow grey eyes.

He smiled. Sarah was immediately put off by it. A weird sensation tingled in her skin. Something was wrong.

"It's fine, I'm sure you'll remember soon enough."

Sarah nodded curtly; her neck ached from the whiplash she sustained from the crash. Just then, there was a sharp pain in her wrist. It felt like thousands of tiny knives prickling her skin, lighting it aflame. She grinded her teeth and rubbed the sight of the injury.

"What's wrong?" the stranger asked. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Her eyes darted from the man to her wrist, to her bracelet. Even in the rain, it was glowing white hot. She bit her lip until it drew blood.

_Why now? It only starts to hurt when the man was near._

She stared out into the rain, seeing no one. It was just her and this stranger.

_This pain feels different from the other two instances, _she had just realized. _It had used to burn like it was on fire. But now it felt like it's trying to kill me. Like it's…._

"—trying to warn me."

The man only heard her murmur nonsensically. "What was that?"

Right then, Sarah took her chances on instinct alone. She drew her gun and aimed it at the stranger. A gust of wind blew through the deserted land and the storm raged on.

"Don't you come near me," she said firmly.

The man held his hands in surrender. "Miss, I do not want any trouble here. Just put the gun down."

She cocked it back for emphasis, shaking her head defiantly. "No."

The man looked at her for a moment. Thunder crashed and he let his hands drop down.

He smirked.

"I gotta say, even at the brink of death, you're a smart cookie."

Sarah's eyes grew wide. The bracelet continued to burn, scarring her flesh. She flinched in pain.

"Who are you?" she shouted above the storm.

The man shook his head. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. I am no one important. You on the other hand, are the primary source of concern. You see, I've taken a liking to you."

He took a step forward closer to her. Sarah was paralyzed with a growing feeling of terror.

"Actually, my boss has as well," he corrected himself. "He likes your tenacity, your cold-bloodedness. You're a warrior, a fighter. He thinks you would be helpful in this little problem we have."

Sarah's grip on the gun faltered. The man resumed to stepping toward her. His smile widened gradually and when the lightning crackled in the sky, his grey eyes melted into a liquid pale green.

"Give me your car keys and I won't have to shoot you," she said with a shaky breath.

The man was inches away from her now. He took the muzzle of the weapon and pressed it deep into his chest, right where his heart should be.

"Do it, Sarah. Shoot me," he told her convincingly. "I know you like it, killing. It's such as rush, makes you feel alive." Cackling, he added, "It's something, however, I can't say about your _boyfriend."_

_Chuck?_

There was a flicker of realization in her eyes. He saw this and his grin widened.

"Oh yes, Chuck is his name, no?"

Sarah was quiet. The rain increased in force and showered her with freezing water.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said smugly. "I understand you do not know the real truth behind his past, do you?"

Her finger curled instinctively around the trigger.

"How sad, he left you in the dark. It's too bad for you, poor dear." He feigned sympathy. "But, you must know it all worked out for the best. In the end, you came looking for him even though he clearly left you so that you would stay at home. And yet, here you are."

Sarah looked at the ground, tears pooled in her eyes. Her wet hair fell over her face, masking her grief from the fiendish man.

"It all fell into place, really," he continued, his sickly eyes glowing. "If you had just stayed home like a good girl, I would most certainly be dead. Your beau would come home and you'd live happily ever after. But you are very stubborn, Sarah."

His words stabbed her in the gut. She felt everything shatter around her as tears spilt and mixed with the rainwater.

"So stubborn and rebellious for the man you love. So you come here to find him, save him. What you do not know is that by doing this, you have just sealed his fate."

He leaned into her face close enough to whisper into her ear. He said in a daunting sing-song voice, "I'm going to kill your boyfriend, and you're going to watch it all…."

Her eyes flashed and she shouted out loud.

"No!"

_**Bang, bang, bang!**_

The green-eyed man slumped into Sarah's arms, a mouthful of blood running down his parted lips. His face was masked by surprise and Sarah watched callously as he slid down her slick form; she brushed him off to the ground with a definite splash.

Sarah gasped for reprieve, her throat sore from suppressing the urge to be overcome by hysterics. She looked down to the fallen body as it lay there unmoving. Crouching down to her knees, she flipped the corpse over to search it thoroughly.

Her hand grazed over the bullet wounds. There were three of them, all collected around the heart. She narrowed down her eyes when she thought she felt a small pulse.

"He can't be alive…."

Eyes snapped open and a hand gripped at her wrist with inhuman strength. Sarah slipped on the slick pebble ground when trying to free herself. The man jumped to his feet, hoisting her up by the arm.

"Nice shot," he quipped unsmilingly. "Too bad those bullets were ineffective. Didn't Chuck ever tell you that you cannot harm a demon without the aid of salt or iron?"

Confusion glossed in her pained expression. The man released her from his vice-like grip. He cocked his head to the side.

"Don't tell me you don't know about the existence of demons?"

"They're not real," Sarah spat indignantly.

"Such a shallow imagination you have. Very narrow-minded." He sighed moodily. "I guess I will have to prove to you how real we really are."

Before Sarah could react, the man flicked his wrist and an invisible force tossed her up into the air. She flew several yards before slamming into the hard ground with a shell-shocking thump. Her mind became a haze when she was certain that she had suffered a concussion. Struggling upright, Sarah saw the man approaching her. He held her knife in his hand, twirling it around wickedly.

She began to clamber to her feet when invisible hands wrapped around her throat and began to strangle her to death.

"Oh, no you don't," he said with an evil smirk. His fingers clutched into a tight fist. "I'm afraid I can't let you live after this Sarah."

She was now suspended in mid-air, her feet dangling above the fields of bluebonnet flowers. She kicked and resisted from falling into oblivion. Her fingers scratched her throat, trying feebly to release herself from the intangible hands.

"Don't struggle, Sarah," the demon advised soothingly. "It will all be over soon."

He used his left hand to guide Sarah's thrashing form north of the patch of flowers until they had neared the opening of a forest. Again, he made the same snapping motion with his wrist and she collided with the trunk of an ancient poplar tree. The bark splintered when her head connected with the hard wooden surface.

Sarah groaned, but was able breathe again.

Pinned to the tree like a sacrificial lamb, she looked at the man weakly.

_I'm going to die like this…._

Her hand lifted up on its own accord, her bracelet jingling from her petite wrist. The burning sensation had become a dull throb. The demon studied it with interest, his lips curved into a malevolent grin.

"Where did you get that little trinket, Sarah?" he asked her softly.

Eyes glazed over, Sarah refused to respond. She replied soundless with a knowing smile.

"You will take it to your grave, won't you?"

She nodded spitefully. Her split lips curved into a maddening smile and she spit a mouthful of blood into his face.

"I'm going to make sure you die as slow as possible."

He took the knife and slid it slowly across her abdomen. It sliced through her torn blouse until it carved deep into her flesh. There was much blood spilt from the gaping wound, but Sarah did not show weakness. Her sight started to wane; everything was a jumble of sights and sounds. In her last moments of lucidity, she looked over her killer's shoulder and watched in horror as a small army of people came to gather around and see her demise.

"Now even my children can have the pleasure of watching the light leave your stunning eyes."

She was seconds from giving in. But she held on to one last ounce of strength once she heard the faint sound of wheels screeching to an abrupt stop, and unfamiliar voices arguing with each other; telling one specific person to "Hold on!" and "You're gonna get us all killed!"

Through blurry eyes, Sarah saw a figure come out into the last of the twilight. Its form dashed with increasing speed past the fields of flowers, something deadly clutched in his palm.

There was a momentary period where the man had left his despondent eyes from hers. It gave her time to refocus her sights on the quickly approaching form. The demonic man stepped from the poplar tree, leaving Sarah pinned to it.

"Look who it is," he said heartily. "I guess someone does value your life, Sarah."

The land illuminated by the shocks of lightning, Sarah had recognized him; it was her savior, Chuck Bartowski and no other.

_No Chuck!_ she wanted to scream. _Go away! You're going to die, leave me here! _

But her pleas were left unanswered. Chuck had past the point of no return. Five or more thugs came running towards him, all bloodthirsty with murderous gleams in their pitless eyes. A punch was thrown and Chuck ducked, swept a leg out, knocking the enemy down. He spun around skillfully and twirled the dagger in his hand; he speared the fallen man in the gut and then elbowed a second attacker in one fluid motion.

Sarah's eyes went wide in amazement. Even though she had been a witness to the first time Chuck had flashed to the new Intersect, she was still astounded by the prowess he was displaying.

And so she continued to watch in shock as he quickly took care of the remaining adversaries. One by one, they all fell to the ground, dead. Chuck was facing the last of them before dealing with Death himself. With the Intersect at the helm, he slid the knife across the last man's exposed neck with a coldness Sarah only thought she had seen in herself.

The knife dug in deeper into the man's throat. His body flickered orange and then Chuck carelessly tossed the lifeless corpse to the ground. He heaved a bated breath and stepped cautiously up to the demon, blood dripping down the blade.

"It was a mistake for you to come here tonight, you must know that."

Chuck looked from Sarah to the man, his unemotional expression now wavering.

"You let her go right now," he ordered.

"I let her go and then what? You kill me?" The demon let out a high-pitched laugh.

"You know I can't do that."

"Yes, that's why I find it so funny. Without me, what would happen to the balance between life and death?"

Chuck sighed at loss. He dropped the knife to the ground, the hilt sticking upward to the raging sky.

"I'm unarmed. Please, just let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

The demon shook his head. "Sarah here heard too much for my liking. And hunter or not, she is a focal point of this war."

Chuck froze. His eyes darted to Sarah's bloodied body. She was looking at him in utter confusion. He sucked in a deep breath and shut his eyes. When they reopened, he shot her a firm look.

Sarah caught this and nodded stiffly. Chuck focused back to the demon, feeling more at ease than before.

"You know," he began causally. "We've already taken out your brother, War."

"I have heard."

"Do you honestly think that we won't find a way to send your ass back to the pit too?"

"War was ignorant and too prideful for his own good. I will not be as easily fooled."

"I wouldn't speak so soon."

"What?"

"Sarah!" Chuck shouted.

Using the last of her strength, Sarah cold-cocked the man in the back of the head with her raw knuckles. In the same moment, Chuck made a dive for his discarded knife and came from behind where he snaked a hand around the demon's neck.

Sarah observed in horror as Chuck held the man's left hand against the trunk of the tree. He brought down the knife on the finger wearing a clunky black ring. The man screamed in agony and then it was all over.

His jaw unhinged and black smoke came tumbling out of his mouth. The bloody ring fell into Chuck's outstretched hand and both he and Sarah watched as the corporal smoke circled in the air before dispersing into the night.

At once, the rain stopped. Clouds parted and a full moon broke through the chaos and sent its moonbeams to the earth below. Sarah felt all the power holding her to the trunk vanish. She peeled off the bark and Chuck was quick to catch her.

Her face buried itself in the crook of his neck while her weakened arms wrapped piteously around his waist. He slowly lowered her to the grassy floor, laying her flat on her back.

With trembling hands he reached out, lightly brushing them over her crimson cheeks. Sarah could feel his palms shaking against her slick skin as he applied more pressure to her face.

Her ability to register speech was fading away. She closed her tired eyes and listened to Chuck's urgent, muffled whispers escape his quivering lips. His hands began to shake more violently and the whispers grew more forceful. Sarah strained with all her might to decipher what he was trying to tell her.

He anxiously babbled, "Come on Sarah, hang on. Please, don't die. Stay awake, listen to my voice. God, I can't lose you. Sarah…."

It was all Sarah could do to remain conscious. Her breaths grew shallow and she was falling into the darkness fast.

More voices spoke in hushed tones.

"Chuck, we need to get her out of here. She'll die from hypothermia if she stays in the cold any longer."

"No, I can fix her. I can do it right now."

There was a brief struggle.

"Sam is right; she's on death's door man. Best we can do is take her someplace warm and see if Cas can help us at all."

"He can't help us! If he can't help Bobby…then h-how can he do anything for Sarah?"

Their voices grew quiet and incoherent. Sarah felt another shot of burning agony and she became consumed by the pain.

All she could manage before drifting away was Chuck's name.

* * *

End chapter 5.

Next Chapter- The Reason

An: Two chapters left of part I of the Chuck/SPN crossover series.

Annotations: (1) A Quote from John Milton's Paradise Lost. Adam says this to God when defending Eve after she ate the forbiden fruit.

(2) Quote from Book I of Paradise Lost. Lucifer tells his fallen angels after being banished from Heaven. It is truth in a way, that Heaven and Hell are states of mind. A person is capable of creating or destroying their own happiness within their mind. Heaven can be Hell and vice versa, its all what you make of it.

AN2: Trivia: Paradise Lost heavily influences the tv show, Supernatural. The way Lucfier is a sympathetic character and not right out evil, along with the descriptions of the angels and demons.


	6. Oh, Death

An: Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! I hope all you guys had a pleasant Thanksgiving. I apologize that this took so much longer than intended. I was having a severe mental block and decided to change a few things and flesh out the story more.

Before beginning to read this, I must warn you. Major angst alert here. I hate sad stories, but if you watch Supernatural then you know there's no such thing as a happy ending. But even so, there still are some things that have yet remained to be seen. There's a light at the end of the tunnel. And trust me, its not hellfire.

Happy readings!

And thanks to my beta, ersk4!

R&R

* * *

**Chapter 6- Oh, Death**

"**But what is this, that I can't see?**

**With ice cold hands taking hold of me.**

**When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,**

**Who will have mercy on your soul?**

**Oh, Death, oh Death,**

**My name is Death and the end is here…"-Oh, Death. Jen Titus**

**~*~**

"Chuck…."

She let his name slip from her lips as it lingered in the air. It would be the very last thing she would ever say and yet she knew not.

Oh God.

The way she had spoken his name—how it sounded so frail and withered—said so much without saying hardly anything at all.

It told him that he had failed.

He had failed her.

Sarah was dying.

"No, no, no, no, no…." he whispered, shaking.

Feelings of desperation coursed through Chuck's veins. The sheer traumatic ache and panic panged in his chest. Guilt and blame welled within him, swallowing him whole. It stampeded through his very core, stabbing his heart repeatedly.

Chuck knelt beside Sarah, both of them bathing in the moonlight. His hands were fervently caressing over skin so angelically white and pale that he swore he was touching a statue, not a living human being. Fingertips skimmed down her ashen face, tracing the outline of her bluing tinged lips that froze half-parted.

As the rise and fall of her chest became laborious, Sarah's breath diminished—becoming shallow and uneven. Chuck rested his palm on her lower abdomen, feeling a hot sticky wetness stain his skin crimson. He pressed on the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood.

Using his other hand to hold Sarah up, he leaned close and began chanting encouraging nothings into her ear. The things he confessed to deaf ears became a eulogy, hopeless and fruitless.

Chuck realized that he was living his nightmare, one where he was asleep but completely aware of his surroundings. Worse of all, he couldn't do anything to stop the tragic events from unraveling.

It was an endless torture; the pain he felt gave him no pleasure, no desire to continue on.

He wanted to rip himself from this terrible reality. He wanted to be awake and regain control. He was so confused. This pain that embedded into his chest—his heart and very soul had numbed him to the bone. Physical pain no longer affected him as it once did.

It made him wonder if what was silently killing him the emotional pain rather than physical. And if it was, it had proven that it was so much deadlier than its counterpart.

Chuck softly scooped up Sarah, ignoring the blood smearing onto his clothes as he repositioned himself so that he cradled her in his lap. He looked down at her face. Her deep blue eyes, which once showed so much promise for life now held nothing. They were glazed over and blank, horribly and terrifyingly vacant.

The truth was dark as her heart stopped beating; he sat with his arms wrapped around her slender form, silent and still.

It was over.

She was falling away from him.

Sarah was gone.

Cold-blooded, she suffered, beaten down by a terrible fate he could not prevent.

There was no yelling, cursing, begging, or outbursts of angry tears. Sorrow swallowed Chuck's screams. He could only take a short weak breath. He held it in for a while before giving in to the misery.

"God Sarah…."

When he watched the life be strip from her body—she became light and weightless—Chuck held her tighter and began to sob quietly.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry." The words escaped his mouth in a strained undertone. He choked for air as salty tears streamed down his cheeks. His hand grasped for hers, fondling the bracelet that had been his mother's. It was warm to the touch. "I'm sorry, so sorry." He bowed his head and placed a chaste kiss upon her damp forehead.

Chuck stayed like this for a while. His head buried in the crook of Sarah's neck, his eyes shut while hot tears continued to fall. With each passing second, pieces of him were breaking apart. Something in his coffee brown eyes had shattered.

He was inconsolable. He wished he could die right alongside Sarah. He just wanted it to end.

_It's my fault. All of this is my fault._

Voices, both distant and far away, took Chuck from his broken thoughts momentarily. He heard his friends talking with each other in hushed whispers. They were arguing, not sure how to pursue the situation they found themselves sucked into.

"Sammy, help me out here. Let's grab Sarah and take her back to the Impala, maybe there's a hospital nearby or something…."

A short deafening pause had bile rising up in Chuck's throat. At this point, he abandoned all hope.

Sam and Dean—his friends, they couldn't help him.

"It's too late, Dean."

Why couldn't they help him?

"What?" Dean's voice went deathly low.

This couldn't be happening to him.

Sam replied sadly, "She's gone…we didn't save her in time."

_I was too late to save her._

Why is this happening to him?

Hands suddenly fell on his shoulders, gripping his jacket while trying to pull him away from Sarah. Chuck's hold became protective and firm. He defensively hid his head in her tangled hair, unwilling to let go.

"Chuck, c'mon!"

Sam tugged on the leathery fabric, urging him up.

Chuck shook his head defiantly. "No," he said between clenched teeth.

Again Sam persisted on wrenching Chuck from his embrace with Sarah. He resisted this time, an anger growing icy cold in his veins. He swung an arm out blindly, not caring if he hit Sam in the face. He wanted to be alone, alone with Sarah.

"I'll bring you back," he promised the lifeless shell. "I won't rest until you're alive."

Sam's ears perked up at this confession. A sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach; he knew exactly what Chuck meant by his promise.

"Dean," he spoke up hoarsely.

His brother looked at him expectantly, "Yeah?"

"Chuck…I think he's going to try and make a deal."

The words hung in the stale air. Dean blinked furiously, his eyes going from his little bro and then to the grieving man that held his lover like the world was crashing down on him.

Throat constricting, he asked, "How do you know for sure?"

"Trust me, I know," was the sure reply.

Silence enveloped the night. Dean was considering what Sammy was saying to be true. And Sam was figuring out how to prevent Chuck from going through with it.

Finally, the elder Winchester stated with a sigh, "We can't stop him from doing what he wants to, Sam. If he wants to save Sarah, then let him…I saved you—"

Sam's green eyes flashed. "And went to hell for it! I'm not letting Chuck make the same mistakes we've made all right? I won't let him die. After everyone I've lost—Mom, Dad, Jess, and you… I'm not allowing Chuck to sacrifice himself!"

Dean crossed his arms indignantly. "You wouldn't be saying this if I was the one dead, would you? When I had a year to live, you tried making a deal to get me out of it. So stop being selfish; you brought Chuck back into this shitty life, so let him make the decision on how he's gonna survive through it."

Sam shut his mouth. He glanced over to Chuck and frowned. He imagined over a year ago when it was him on the ground, holding a dead brother in his arms as he wept for seemingly days on end. He remembered slipping into a depression, and doing anything humanly possible to get Dean back.

He empathized with Chuck. He really did.

But he knew how much he had suffered while he searched for a way to revive Dean. How much it broke him down and twisted him into something that was less than human. He didn't want that for his friend. He did not want Sarah to wake up alive only to figure out the man who saved her was going to die in her place and spend a lifetime in hell, burning for all eternity.

"So we just let him go?" Sam said gruffly.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, we do."

Unknown to either of them, Chuck was maneuvering out of Sarah's grasp. He set her down on the muddy floor and then staggered to his feet. Wiping a hand across his face, he faced the Winchesters. Eyes were red and puffy from crying. The brown in his irises had become hollow and black like coal, a hint of suicidal resolve glinted in its depths.

The look he gave told Sam that he was not going to come back to them. He wanted this, needed this; repentance and forgiveness radiated off of his sulking form.

Sam had seen that look before. He had seen it so many times. More times than he could count. It was the last look his father gave him before trading his life for Dean's. And it was the same look that Sam saw in Dean's eyes before he himself disappeared into the beyond. And then he gave that very look the night the clock struck twelve and the hell hounds came and tore Dean apart piece by piece.

Not caring about the consequences, Chuck was going to do it. Sam felt himself shudder involuntarily. Who the fuck was Chuck to make such an important live-ending decision like this? Didn't he understand what will happen once he passes on into the hellfire?

"Chuck…." he pleaded one last time. "Please don't do this."

Chuck stared at him, shooting a glare that said—who the fuck are you to say what I can and cannot do?

And so, no further words were exchanged between the three hunters. Dean watched the two younger men staring down each other, waiting for one of them to break. Neither would back down. Wordlessly, Chuck removed his eyes from Sam's and then turned his back on him.

He then began his trek into the darkness, knowing where he was going but lacking the guide to take him there.

* * *

The weight of the world—was on his shoulders.

The weight of the world—was pushing him down.

The weight of the world—was crushing him into the ground as he suffocated beneath all the burden and grief.

Chuck wanted out. He wanted to be able to breathe again.

He wanted release.

Standing by himself in the middle of the crossroads, just north of where Sarah had crashed her car, Chuck was prepared to surrender his soul.

He felt insane for doing so. Every single time he'd make a compromise, he was showing weakness and ignorance. He was acting selfish and immature, always yearning for something just out of reach.

_I'm not insane, _he reassured himself, _I'm not insane._

All he wanted was Sarah to come back to him. It was almost easy.

He bent down on one knee and unsheathed his knife. He used the sharp blade to dig a hole into the gravelly earth until it was deep enough to bury something in it.

Shame pulsed through his heart from the things he was about to do. It would be hard to face Sarah, Sam and Dean, not to mention Ellie (it just rubbed salt into the wound) and tell them what he had done. But the fact remained and it was nothing new.

He was not insane, he was not…not insane.

Selfish beneath the skin but deeper down to his fragmented soul, Chuck was not insane.

A trembling hand dug into a jean pocket, pulling out a silver bracelet. It twinkled like the dead stars above in the black void of nothingness. Chuck held it in his palm, studying the piece of jewelry in adoration.

If he wanted Sarah back, he understood from all the research he had read up on, the sacrifice needed to present its dealer a worthy possession. Chuck was positive that his mother's bracelet—Sarah's bracelet—would be the perfect choice.

He closed his eyes and dropped it into the small hole and then proceeded to fill it back up.

On his hands and knees, he waited.

_Please work, please… Sarah come back, just come back to me._

A gust of wind blew by and then a cold chill ran up his spine. He heard an unfamiliar whoosh and lifting his head up slowly, he saw a figure enveloped in the shadows, standing perfectly still.

In the darkness, a female voice greeted.

"Why hello, Chuck."

Chuck stiffened at the sound of his name. It sounded cool and indifferent, demonic. Rising to his feet, he dusted off his jeans and looked into the thick night and he could faintly make out the bright glow of a pair of red eyes.

The sense of danger building up in his chest, Chuck felt every fiber of his being shift from a mourning lover to a lethal hunter.

Just like that, eyes alert, knife out, standing ready, in one single fluid motion.

"Show yourself!" he hollered bravely into the darkness.

A woman's tittering laugh made all hairs stand up on end. Stepping out of the black was a strikingly beautiful woman. She had long blonde hair and wore a midnight blue dress. She did not look exactly like Sarah (no one could, it was impossible) but there was enough of a resemblance for Chuck to realize the demon had done it on purpose. Her hands clasp together, she almost glided across the barren road, a thin smile forming with full red lips.

"You can put that down, hunter," she advised him nicely. "There's no need for violence."

Chuck found it rather difficult to trust her. He kept the knife out, more so to give him the comfort and possible edge of pulling through this confrontation unharmed. The female demon approached him and once she was inches from where he stood, her fingertips softly grazed his chest. Her touch felt filthy.

Chuck steeled himself not to pull away from her touch. Not to break eye contact.

"I'm here about Sarah. I want to make a deal with you."

"No, no Chuck," she teased him. "Before we bargain for you and Barbie's soul, I need a gesture of good faith." Her smile was kind, almost shy. However, Chuck knew how evil and unassuming these creatures could really be. "Drop the knife, big boy."

Chuck laughed darkly. "You really think I'm stupid don't you? I may be desperate, but I'm not a moron."

Her only response was a giggle. "Oh you could have fooled me, Chuckles."

Glancing at the blade in his right hand, Chuck sighed and let it slip from his fingers and clatter to the ground. He looked up at her. "I did it. Now let's get this over with."

The demon harrumphed loudly, "Fine, You're really no fun at all." She grabbed his calloused hand in hers and held it tightly. Her nails digging into his flesh; Chuck winced. "So here's what I'm offering, take it or leave it."

"What is it?" Chuck demanded.

"Six weeks, nothing more nothing less."

Chuck promptly tore his hand from the demon's clutches. Her claw-like fingers caught and ripped a fresh wound into his skin. He felt blood drip from the gash and he spat, "A deal is usually ten years to live, hell, Dean got a year at least! What gives?"

The demon replied with a shrug. "I guess you're just really super special."

"That's not fair!" he shouted at her. Patience was running thin and he started eyeing his blade that sat in the dirt, glinting maliciously in the dark. "Why can't you make an exception or something? What have I done to get the short end of the stick in this?"

Red eyes glowed. "There's been some talk…mostly concerning you. It seems that demons want you in hell sooner rather than later. I guess Lucifer might see you as a threat."

Chuck felt a shortness of breath.

Lucifer….

The mere mentioning of his name had Chuck overwhelmed with fear. It made him wonder why Satan wanted him dead more so than Dean. Dean was chosen to be the savior of humanity, not to mention Heaven.

_What do I have to do with this war? I'm a nobody…Sam and Dean are going to be the ones who are either going to save or destroy the world. Not me._

The demon tilted her head to the left. "I see you're confused," she huffed. "Well so am I, because I just don't see what's so amazing about you."

Gritting his teeth together, Chuck's nostrils flared. He was sick of waiting, he needed to act now.

He needed to bring Sarah back as soon as possible.

"Look, whatever," he sighed in defeat "I don't care any more. The lies, the deceit, the pain and the whole damn apocalypse; I'm done. I'll take the deal, all right?"

She raised a peculiar eyebrow. "Really now?"

Chuck nodded curtly.

"Well now, I did not quite expect that…your kind is normally so much more stubborn," she remarked, still smiling.

"Like you said, I am special."

Linking her arms around his neck, she brushed her lips against his flushed skin. She responded in a sultry purr, "I sure did."

Just as she was closing in on Chuck's lips—already in motion to seal the deal—everything came to an abrupt stop. Chuck felt a tingling sensation and then he was cast into the air and shot backwards, landing squarely on his back.

"Is this a trick?" he heard the demon shriek hectically.

Rubbing the small of his back, Chuck propped himself up. His eyes widened when the knife on the ground beside him wobbled back and forth and finally took flight, flinging itself toward the female demon.

Before she could react, the blade plunged deep into her chest. She let out a shout of surprise, sparking bright orange; and then she crumpled into a heap, dead.

"W-what just happened?" Chuck blurted out loud in surprise.

The knife withdrew from the demon's heart and hovered, suspended in mid-air. Chuck watched this with growing dread. He did not approve of demonically possessed weapons. It went double with those that were sharp and as deadly as his family's prized knife.

Scrambling to his feet as quick as he could, Chuck saw the blade sail backwards into the shadows, far away from where he was. Letting out a breath of relief, Chuck spun around, searching for where his weapon could have gone.

And interrupting his concentration was a second spiral of wind. It circled around him like a vortex, but then ceased indefinitely.

There was an unknown presence lurking somewhere beyond the gloom. Chuck could feel it; he tried assessing the entity and weighing up the danger.

Oddly enough, there was no threat to evaluate.

So many years of being a hunter and even a little bit of experience spying had told Chuck this much.

His gaze became less guarded and more wary. He was truly exhausted.

Testing the waters, he taunted the concealed being. "Please tell me you're not another big scary demon. I'm getting really sick and tired of you guys popping up at any given time."

Shrouded in shadows, Chuck heard a voice stifle its own laughter. It was too dark to see the figure perfectly, as he only could make out its faint outline. But it was assumed that whatever it was—angel or demon—it appeared to be human.

Its response was spoken with great pride, strength and admiration, "Charles."

Chuck felt like he had been punched in the gut. He squinted in the darkness, struggling to see its true form. He knew that voice. He could never, ever forget it. The voice had been around long before Sarah had come into his life; it always remained etched into his brain, even in death, always telling him things in his conscious to inspire and rouse his emotions.

Apprehensive, he dared it to reveal itself, "Come out of the dark and show me your face, bastard."

Like the moon had gotten brighter, its beams shone directly on the figure like a giant spotlight. There stood Bryce Larkin only a few feet away from Chuck, wearing a tight smile, his bright blue eyes twinkling uncharacteristically. It shot off the same energy it had the night he had died.

"I-I must be dreaming." Chuck stated. It was not a question.

"No," Bryce shook his head sadly. "You're not, but your prayers are being answered."

True, Chuck did want some sort of revelation from the increasingly absent Heaven. But he did not want it to unfold in this sort of fashion. It was rather uncomfortable to be face to face with an old friend, one that was very much dead. Flashes of images zipped through Chuck's head, reminding him of that life changing time when he watched Bryce die before his eyes.

These memories told Chuck to be cautious of the thing that claimed to be the once alive superspy. Even if everything Bryce did scream he was who he appeared to be—the way he walked, spoke and smiled—the hunter inside remained skeptical.

Bryce pressed forward and the closer he came to Chuck, his skin started to crawl and he actually flinched. It was an involuntary movement that startled Chuck and invoked a confused expression to shine in his dark irises.

Noticing this act of bewilderment, Bryce held his hands up in a gesture that conveyed he came in peace. Chuck had a difficult time relaxing however. His wide eyes morphed into a suspicious glare while his mind was adamant to convince himself that this man—this thing—was not the real Bryce Larkin.

His heart thumped in his chest and reverberated into his eardrums. The quiet, tranquil night (save for the crickets chirping serenely) ceased and became filled with hostility. Chuck knew right then that what was going on was just a trick, a dirty one at that.

"So what are you?" he lashed out unexpectedly. "Just another demon maybe?"

Bryce remained motionless, not batting an eye.

Chuck grew increasingly more frustrated.

He threw his arms out. "Not a demon? Okay, then. Are you a trickster? Did you just want to play a prank on me, see if it'd make you laugh to watch me lose my fucking mind while I tried to save Sarah?"

Again, there was no response.

Fuming, he continued his rant. "So what? You're not going to say anything? God damn coward, why won't you answer me?"

By the time these raged-filled words expelled from his throat, Chuck had both hands on Bryce's jacket—the same one that he wore when he died. He shook the shorter man like a rag doll, demanding answers. When he knew it was futile, he sighed and released him.

Tears of aggravation rolled down his face and he bit back the urge to cry out once again.

Sensing Chuck's wavering sanity, the thing that wore Bryce Larkin's face finally understood that every man (human or otherwise) had a breaking point. So in turn, he showed a flicker of emotion and it was that of sympathy and remorse.

He spoke in a careful voice. "I did not think this was going to fool you for very long; and for that, I apologize." He shrugged. "I had not considered you would be in such a fragile state upon my arrival here."

Chuck took a lumbering step backwards, coughing on the air he inhaled. Feelings of betrayal swept over his drawn features, creases formed above his eyes as they narrowed down, expecting a further explanation.

"I lied to you, Charles. I am sadly not your friend Bryce," Not-Bryce admitted.

Staring at the man for a long while, Chuck found the strength to reply. "What made it seem like dressing up as Bryce Larkin was a good idea? Halloween is still a few months away, you know."

"I guess I thought you'd feel more comfortable in his presence…."

In spite of the situation—and in spite of everything—Chuck felt the tingle of laughter rise up in his chest and tickle its way out of his throat. Sure that it was a sign of madness, he snorted at Not-Bryce's rationalization and even began chuckling after seeing the lost look on the man's face.

"Right," Chuck struggled to say more in between his fits of laughter. "Because appearing in the likeness of one of my dead friends is _real _comforting."

Not-Bryce stared at him blankly. He reminded Chuck so much of Castiel and how the expression he'd wear when Dean would say something sarcastic or humorous was almost exactly alike.

And then Chuck lifted an accusing finger at the imposter and said with certainty, "I now know what you are. You're an angel, aren't you?"

Not-Bryce looked down and studied his hands, wistfully. Chuck got the impression that it was not an attempt at avoiding him but he was just honestly interested in the physical appearance of a human.

_Typical_, Chuck mused thoughtfully. All the angels he has met or heard of were portrayed as being naive with a child-like innocence. It looked as though this one wasn't any different from the others.

A moment passed and then the angel lifted his head and met Chuck's gaze. "Yes, I am an angel of the Lord."

The hunter's icy gaze melted back into the warm chocolate brown color he was always admired for.

"Is there a reason why you're here?" he questioned tiredly. "Because in case you couldn't tell, I was in the middle of a very important business deal before you uh, interrupted me."

"I stopped you for a reason, Charles."

"Uh, huh," Chuck said unconvinced. "Are you going to just stand there or are you going to tell me why you felt the need to directly screw with my life?"

The angel gave him a confused look. "I thought I was doing you a favor; I saved you from—"

"—Hell, right." Chuck finished with the roll of his eyes. "And just as a little heads up, did you ever think twice that maybe, just maybe I did not want to be saved?"

"I know you didn't."

"So why did you?" he countered.

"You are special," the angel disguised as Bryce revealed.

"That's been the general consensus lately," Chuck deadpanned. "But what does 'special' really mean to you guys anyway? Am I special like Sam, or am I special like Dean?" Then he added, "As a weapon for your damn apocalypse, I mean."

The angel ran a hand through Bryce's perfectly neat brown hair. He gave off a conflicted look and then divulged vaguely. "You are both and you are neither."

Chuck had his brows knitted together, not coming to an understanding.

"How can that be?"

"I cannot say."

"Are you angels always so cryptic?"

For the first time since the discussion had started, a humorous grin crossed Not-Bryce's angelic features.

"It's a trait we tend to share," he joked, "but some more than others."

"And you're just friggin Houdini aren't you?"

The angle blinked, the reference lost.

Chuck snorted and shook his head resignedly. "Why do I even try anymore? If Sarah won't get it, why would an angel…."

He felt Sarah's name slide out of his lips and a great pain pierced his heart. Just the mere mentioning of her brought back horrible unimaginable agony. Tears glistened behind his eyes and he sniffed miserably.

Blue eyes saw his suffering and the angel's smile turned into a forlorn grimace.

"You miss her, don't you." It was not a question. He stepped towards Chuck and rested a hand on his chest. "You miss her so much that you would forsake your soul to be tortured mercilessly in perdition…."

Chuck rubbed his eyes fretfully. "She died because of me," he mentioned and hiccupped. "I'll do anything to make sure she is brought back to life…anything."

"Anything?" the angel quipped curiously.

Dropping his hand to his side uselessly, Chuck reaffirmed his profession. "Anything."

"You know things that are dead should remain dead."

"I know."

"And yet you still wish to revive this woman?"

"Yes," Chuck answered with strong unshakable conviction. "By any means necessary."

Not-Bryce nodded sullenly. His expression shifted from stoic to full of compassion and empathy. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.

"I can bring her back to you," he said above a whisper.

Chuck responded in disbelief. "You can? How? When? Why?"

The angel absorbed the onslaught of questions with poise and control. He gave Chuck the once over before replying.

"I will bring her back," he repeated. "But only under one condition."

With a rebirth of strength and resolve, Chuck stood straight, his shoulders no longer sagging. He held the angel's gaze momentarily.

"All right, what is it?"

Not-Bryce smiled grimly.

"I need your consent."

Expecting the hunter to stall or maybe even decline the offer immediately, God's soldier was truly taken aback when there was no hesitance to be found.

"I'll do it."

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, the dead had a second chance at life.

Wind rushed into her lungs and as her heart began to beat steadily in perfect rhythm, she jolted awake. Frightened and confused, blue eyes grew in size and tears swam to the surface.

She flung up off the wet ground, her body soaked and filthy with mud and blood on her frame. Shaking from the cold, she looked around her not seeing anything but an endless stretch of bluebonnet flowers. She wrapped her arms around her chest while her teeth chattered. It wasn't until two pairs of shocked and horrified eyes landed on hers, did she realize something was wrong.

Sarah Walker felt a yelp jumped out of her throat. Not sure where she was or what had happened, only one person ran through her drowsy mind.

"Where's Chuck?" she asked the two brother nervously.

"Sonnuvabitch!" Dean cursed out loud.

Sam said nothing. He only continued to look dumbfounded at the blonde female, mystified and in some terrible awe.

What the hell has Chuck done?

* * *

End Chapter 6. Next Chapter, the Reason. -- I promise!

An: Sorry if that was hard to read, it was hard to write. I kicking around Chuck like a puppy. =( But have no fear, next chapter will be lighter and fluffier...or as much as it would allow according to the circumstances.

If there's any questions, leave a review and i'll do my best to answer them all.


	7. Dear God

An: Hello everybody! Thank for the reviews for the last chapter! I'm sorry as once again, i've lied when I said that the next chapter would be the Chuck and Sarah confrontation. Sadly, its not. Next one is though, I pinkie promise. I've procrastinated enough and I'm ready to write the troubling scene. haha. Anyway, roll with the chapter and if you get confused then good. Its deliberate. The next chapter will shed light on a lot of things. And after that, there's an epilogue and then on to part two! ---Equals some good hunting times and Chuck/Sarah fluff. I swear! It will be minimal angst.

Thanks to my beta, ersk4!

And R&R por favor.

Happy Holidays as wel. (Cuz I'm PC like that---is not)

* * *

**Chapter 7-DEAR GOD**

**"A lonely road, crossed another cold state line  
Miles away from those I love purpose hard to find**

**Dear God the only thing I ask of you is  
to hold her when I'm not around,  
when I'm much too far away  
We all need the person who can be true to you  
I left her when I found her  
And now I wish I'd stayed"**

**-Dear God, Avenged Sevenfold**

**~*~**

Throughout a man's life, there would be choices to consider, decisions to be made and fears to be realized and eventually through much perseverance, conquered. These trials would be in the form of crossroads; where what was right or wrong, easy or hard would test a man's character and integrity as a human being.

The crossroad could be metaphorical, or in Chuck's case, literal.

He was in the middle of the crossing paths, on his hands and knees like a beggar as he clawed the dirt ground to find where he had buried his mother's—no, he shook his head—it was Sarah's bracelet now, now and forever. To see if he may have misplaced the bracelet or -- God forbid – lost it.

The same old song sang in his head as he did this. It nagged at his brain, counting up all the things he had done in a single night and asked himself if what he had done was right.

Nails were crusted with dirt as he hastily dug deeper in the midst of the desolate road. His body forced him to keep searching while his mind continued to rift off the good and bad consequences of his actions.

Was it justified? Or was it just a selfish act by a desperate man?

His head told him that it was unjustifiable and it undid the very foundation—the promise—the code of what he swore he'd never break.

But his heart was adamant to say otherwise.

This unyielding battle between his logic and emotions raged on indefinitely as Chuck breathed in the cold air and he scraped the gravel down to its center.

"Come on," he panted while he dug insistently, "where is it?"

Damp, errant curls shrouded over his intense gaze while he sifted the dirt and rock from the depths of the hole. He sneezed and coughed when a cloud of dust suspended in the crisp air. Rubbing his flushed nose and eyes with a grimy hand, Chuck's pupils grew to the size of quarters once he noticed something sparkle beneath a layer of dirt.

His breath quickened when he wiped an opened hand over the bedrock to find the silver bracelet, shining brilliantly like the stars above him. A beaming smile played on Chuck's lips and he shoveled out the ancient piece of jewelry and stored it away for safe keeping.

Chuck sighed, grateful to see his luck taking a turn for the best. He pushed up to his feet and felt the events of the past days catching up to him in the span of one motion.

As he struggled to remain upright, he became aware of himself glancing at the sky, lost in the simplicity and majesty of the night. It was in that moment alone that Chuck determined what he had done—saving Sarah's life at the cost of his will—was the decision to make. It wasn't right, nor was it justified other than for the sake of saving him from drowning in the guilt of her death and being forsaken of her presence all together. Because loving her was the reason for his choice.

It was his duty as a soldier in this war to remain with all inhibitions intact. He and the others that were brought up in this dangerous lifestyle—trained for this exact situation (apocalypse)—and it was made clear that life, relationships and love should be of no concern. Love only got people killed.

He had seen it first hand with Sarah that very night. It shook the foundations of his soul and made him question everything he knew about his morals and whether the duty outweighed love. As spies, Chuck watched both Sarah and Casey become conflicted with the correct answer. More often than not they chose to honor their positions to protect the country; once in a while, something would affect them to the point to commit insubordination.

_Sarah…she defied orders to put me in a bunker and ran away with me. Her dedication to her job faltered and she committed treason just to help me save my dad and save myself from prison,_ Chuck recalled.

If she did that for Chuck and still had no regrets, then neither would he. Even though he told himself over and over again that he would never go down this road—with love on one side while duty was on the other—he took the road less traveled by his companions and went to Sarah.

His decision would subject him to a handful of both disappointed and angry faces.

Chuck knew Sam would be the most upset.

But Dean would surely empathize with him. He understood what it meant to protect the ones you loved at any cost.

Ellie, oh God, she'd be pissed. Over time she'll figure out why he did it and accept it because at his sister's core, Chuck knew she was a romantic at heart. She loved Sarah like the sister she never had. She would be OK with time.

Morgan would lose a best friend and a surrogate brother. The pedestal he had placed Chuck upon since they were young would be knocked over and Morgan would no longer have an idol he practically worshipped since they first met.

And then there was Sarah. What would she think? How would she react to him revealing to her that she died and was brought back to life all because of him and his foolish mistakes? He couldn't imagine what such a conversation would be like. He didn't have to either, at least not yet. It was safer if Sarah never knew about his deal; it'd save her the pain and him the heartache.

It'd be better that way.

Chuck idly traced his padded fingertips over his sheathed knife in thought. His eyes remained motionless all the while he stargazed. While the heavens twinkled, he was reminded of the mysterious angel who tipped the scale between life and death, sanity and madness. His recollection of their meeting was still so fresh in his mind.

All the while, Chuck was silently preparing for when the angel would come back for him. Whenever that may be; he was going to be ready.

They have no sense of punctuality or time on Earth, he mused wistfully. Which means they don't understand that time down here is dwindling closer to the big end game.

Just as he was about to delve deeper into the meaning behind the guardian angel's prophetic speech surrounding Sarah's revival and the provisions that accompanied it, "Wheel in the Sky" by Journey interrupted his stream of consciousness. Chuck reached into his jeans and withdrew his iPhone.

"Hey Sam," he greeted the caller with a tired but content tone.

He silently prayed that Sam wasn't going to be bothered by his pacifistic welcoming.

Sam seethed, and justifiably so. "I can't believe you actually did it!"

Chuck tore his eyes from the swirling black and purple atmosphere and readied himself for an onslaught of heated and unkind words. If he was able to withstand Casey's jibes on a daily basis, shouldn't it be a piece of cake to endure little Sammy Winchester's wrath?

He had to be careful with what he revealed to Sam though. It wasn't the right time for either of them to get worked up and start fighting over spilt milk. It happened and Sam would no doubt place the blame on himself. He had a tendency to take all the misfortunes of others and pile their burden squarely on his shoulders.

And to think he had enough on his plate with being Lucifer's true vessel. Sam did not need another distressing revelation to be passed on to him. Being his friend, Chuck could never let that happen.

Which was why he was going to keep it his dirty little secret; for now at least.

So when he finally summed up all the energy he could, Chuck replied naively, "Did what?"

"I'm not stupid, Chuck and neither are you. Please just give me a straight answer here! I want to know exactly what happened with you and the crossroads demon. Maybe we have enough time to ice the bitch before she trades your contract with another demon."

Chuck removed the iPhone from the side of his face and began to scout out a trail that would take him back to the Impala…and Sarah. His eyes flickered east and he allowed intuition to lead him back to her.

"Chuck?" Sam's voice had gotten softer, nervous almost when he hadn't heard any response. "Answer me, please. I need to hear it from your mouth: did you make the deal or not?"

Whilst walking on the broken pavement, Chuck placed the receiver on his ear and answered, "I made a deal."

Sam repeated it confusedly, "A deal?"

"That's correct."

"Can you elaborate on that or am I basically talking to a brick wall?"

"Talk to you later," was Chuck's distracted reply.

"Man, there is no later!" the youngest Winchester remarked harshly. "If we don't figure out what we're up against this second, the Hell Hounds will be off their leashes and hunting you down."

Chuck said with finality in his voice, "I told you, later."

"Dammit, Chuck you have no clue what you got yourself into! You're not thinking rationally, let me help you—"

"Right, see you in a bit Sam." He cut the call short when the tall poplar tree was in view. He put the phone away and exploded into a sprint, his euphoria increasing exponentially the closer he neared his personal salvation.

Sarah.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~**

Soon after her resurrection, closely followed by Dean's foul mouth, Sarah sat in the muddy puddle of grass and dirt with uncertainty weighing on her features.

Her knees were bent and her arms were wrapped around her legs, pulling them closer to her chest. She was freezing cold. The tips of her hair were clinging with what once had been raindrops and now were miniature icicles. She licked her dry lips to keep them moist. Her throat was like a desert, it was sore and abused as if she had been dragged down to Hell, screaming all the way.

Still, all the things she felt were only physical and made her uncomfortable momentarily. With time she'd be good as new. What was worrying her presently was what she was doing here, in the middle of an open field, covered in blood but with no wounds to speak of? Likewise there were two supposed convicts standing a few feet from her acting as though they had seen a ghost.

And all she had asked was where Chuck was….

The shorter one with spiky hair, who Sarah presumed to be Dean Winchester, cursed out loud. It wasn't in anger, more so it was in shock and surprise. The other, however, the taller one with the mesmerizing eyes that glittered like emeralds—Sam Winchester—he kept quiet. He only stared at Sarah with complete hopelessness and fatigue.

Unfortunately for her, neither one answered her question.

So she shifted where she sat, a sense of restlessness and desire for action had her skittish and fretful. She looked to Dean who glared back at her like she was a disease. Sam wasn't making eye contact. Unbeknownst to Sarah, he had left the immediate area and went somewhere secluded to make a phone call.

This left an anxious spy and hunter behind; neither of them knew what to do next.

When Sarah knew the elder Winchester fugitive was not going to talk, she sighed resignedly and began to brood over the circumstance of her arrival to, well, the middle of nowhere.

She remembered being on the road, driving for days it seemed. She was tired and in need of sleep. But she couldn't sleep. It frightened her to sleep because of the nightmares. Because of this, she drove until she entered Chappell Hill, the town where Chuck was supposed to be.

Then there was a lot of fog; the headlights went out and the radio began to go crazy; a familiar man in a beige trench coat attempted to stop her but failed; there was static, a crash, pain, lots of pain…and that was it.

Everything else from that point on was fuzzy.

All except for a strange man with a pair of haunting liquid pale-green eyes.

Collecting her thoughts, Sarah concluded she had been in a car wreck. She survived obviously. Staring down at her unharmed form, she searched for wounds but found none. But she halted her self-assessment when her gaze stilled on her wrist. Brows knitted together and her lips formed a frown.

Her bracelet was gone.

Sarah twisted her wrist around, examining it thoroughly. Yes, Chuck's gift to her, not to mention that it once belonged to his mother—was missing.

She felt an odd feeling knowing that it was no longer hanging from her wrist. It was of abandonment and vulnerability. She actually felt naked without it.

_Chuck is going to be so disappointed when he finds out I lost it._

Her other hand arbitrarily clasped onto her bare wrist and massaged it, half-expecting for it to flare up like it used to do. Her fingers trailed down the length of her forearm and paused when she saw no evidence of any injury occurring during the accident.

Like a hot blade it seared across her flesh; a blistery scar became visible to Sarah's eye. It zigzagged from the beginning of her wrist to just halfway down the inside of her forearm. She traced the scarred tissue gently and discovered that it did not hurt.

Biting her lip, Sarah became overcome by millions of unanswered questions. She could no longer tide her curiosity much longer.

A deep throaty cough broke her from her reverie.

She lifted her gaze and Dean was closer to her than before. He rocked on his heels back and forth, his green eyes apprehensive.

"Uh, so how are ya feeling?" he said, trying to start conversation. "You're all right, right?"

What was that supposed to mean?

Sarah nodded stiffly. "I'm fine, really."

Dean sighed, nodding as well. "That's um, good, huh?"

"Being alive is generally a good thing," she replied dryly. "Of course if you wanted me dead, then I guess it must be pretty disappointing for you and your brother."

"Hey, you think we wanted you dead?" Dean asked, appalled.

"I don't know, you tell me."

He shook his head furiously. "Are you nuts lady? Why in the hell would we want that! The last thing we need right now are the Feds being on our ass for manslaughter…." He added a little bit lower. "Again."

Sarah stared at him accusingly.

Dean must had have seen this because he quickly backpedaled his thoughts and corrected himself.

"Wait a minute there! What I said was taken out of context. We never killed anyone." He laughed shakily. "We we're accused of it though, a bunch of times."

Still looking at him entirely unconvinced, Sarah said slowly, "You better thank God that Chuck is your friend because if he wasn't, you wouldn't be standing there lying to me with a big stupid grin on your face."

Dean blinked and then his face screwed up in a pondering expression. He finally pointed a finger at Sarah and retaliated.

"Don't objectify me."

It was Sarah's turn to look mystified. But unlike Dean, she was unable to comprehend the sheer stupidity of some people.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Dean did a double-take of what Sarah had said earlier.

"Blondie, did you just not only call me stupid, but did you threaten me too?"

"Call me Blondie one more time and it won't be a threat," Sarah countered sweetly.

Turning his back on her, Dean shook his head and mumbled to himself. Sarah picked out what he said: "Man, Chuck knows how to choose them."

Speaking of Chuck, where was he?

Sarah called to the Winchester man and queried impatiently. "I know I asked you this already, but seeing as I never did get a straight answer out of you, I'll try again. Where's Chuck?"

Dean's reply was silent, but a small sad smile formed at the corners of his weathered lips.

* * *

Meanwhile, Chuck was running down the last stretch of road, his breath uneven and exhausted while his face was flushed with color. He pumped his arms in time with his legs and with total determination; he bounded over the side of the street and landed in the mushy fields of dew-coated flowers.

His head bobbing up and down with each arduous step, Chuck could see the poplar tree right in front of him. A few feet later and he saw the Impala resting on the street and then he almost lost his breath when he saw her.

Chuck saw Sarah. Her back turned to him; she was sitting upright in the moss covered grass. It was now the moment he had hoped—not strived for. Terrified to think she might not be real, he approached her with caution. Nevertheless, tears of joy were already pooling behind his eyes and a grin played effortlessly on his lips.

"S-Sarah…?"

She turned her head slowly like she heard the wind crying out her name. Once she met with Chuck's gaze and held it for a moment or so, color blemished her skin and she became overwhelmed by his sudden appearance.

Chuck saw the amazement cross her face, and yet Sarah did not make a move. She was probably too much in shock, or just weak from the entire trauma she had sustained. It had been a long gratuitous night.

So Chuck made the choice to come to her.

He never stopped running. His legs, so heavy and sore, pressed on and fought the pain to quit. When he was finally face to face with Sarah, he fell to the ground and curled up beside her. Arms wrapped around her in a loving and longing embrace; he pressed his forehead against hers and he could smell her scent, not caring that it was of sweat and blood.

Oh, he could not believe she was alive.

That after everything he had done, all the trial and tribulations, it had actually worked.

It was completely worth it. There was no doubt in his mind.

Chuck squeezed her to confirm she was really there. Sarah responded by holding him closer, her face pulling away so that she could see him for the first time in days.

It felt longer than that though. It could've felt like weeks, months, even years since they had reconciled. Because after Chuck returned from training, Sarah noticed that a piece of him was missing. So in reality, it may have been three days, but to them, it had been over three months.

And there was no doubt it had been a long time coming.

They had both waited for so long to just be able to hold each other with no distractions or obstacles to overcome. The confusion that resided within Sarah's muddled thoughts was pushed back into the recess of her mind, forgotten for another time.

Rather than question Chuck about everything that had happened between the span of past and present—his lies and his betrayal—Sarah found herself enjoying this sweet moment of bliss. She did not mind being left in the dark as long as Chuck was there with her.

Huddled against his chest, she felt the rapid beating of his heart. It pounded like a hammer, like a runaway train; proving to her that he was alive just as much as she was.

"Back so soon?" she asked, remembering when he had promised to return to her in the near future.

Chuck smiled and Sarah thought it might've been because he was never going to leave her at all—not really anyway. For once in a long time, peace came for the both of them. It came on slowly, penetrating gently over time, drawing in good air down deep.

Chuck cupped her face with his rough hands and stared straight into her eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke. And then everything was left unsaid when he leaned forward and captured her lips in a fierce and passionate kiss.

It simply took Sarah's breath away.

She could not react in time with his flurry of kisses as they moved from her parted lips to her cheeks, nose, eyes, and forehead.

Blinking once, long withheld tears spilt from her eyes and streamed down her flushed skin. Chuck's soft lips grazed over her open mouth one last time before pulling away. The phantom presence still ghosted over each tender area that had been the result of his affection. Her glassy sapphire eyes blurred his image, but she was certain he was beaming at her. The familiar lop-sided smile she learned to love and appreciate so dearly.

Chuck thumbed away the trail of tears from flooding down her cheeks. She instinctively blushed when his fingertips skimmed over her skin, gooseflesh came soon after. Tiredness crept into her bones and she grew steadily weaker and vulnerable to Chuck's touch. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, praying that he was real and not some terrible hallucination.

"I can't believe you came all this way for me…." he whispered in honest bewilderment.

With her eyes still firmly shut, Sarah could hear just how broken Chuck sounded. His voice cracked a bit as he stumbled across his words. It had Sarah convinced that what he was saying held truth; she knew the sound of heartbreak because she was just as broken as he was.

Sarah said with upmost sincerity, "I couldn't let you just leave me like that, Chuck."

And when she composed herself, Sarah slowly opened her eyes. She looked at Chuck tentatively and noticed how dark his eyes were. It must've been from the way the night reflected into his irises like glittering black stones.

She saw how they were eclipsed by her eyes….that they were brimming with raw emotion. Sarah could not discern what she observed in his endless orbs, but they were powerful and subduing.

They made her feel—

"I'm sorry that I left you like that. I didn't mean to, I swear. I'll never ever leave you again all right?"

—Like she was falling for him. Again and again, a thousand times over.

Sarah rested her palm over his hand and stroked it reassuringly.

"Don't leave me, and I promise I'll never leave you."

At this, Chuck laughed. He sounded semi-hysterical but also incredibly giddy. Nodding furiously, he agreed with her sentiments.

"I won't leave," he declared. He said this while his lips quivered and his voice cracked.

Sarah broke into a pleased smile. "Good."

"Good," Chuck repeated in emphasis. He combed his fingers through Sarah's hair and studied her like it was the first time he had ever laid eyes on her.

"Chuck," a stern voice called out in the midst of his and Sarah's reunion. "I'm glad you and Sarah are having a sweet moment, but we need to talk. Now."

Chuck removed his eyes from Sarah and glanced over his shoulder to see Sam standing not too far away. His arms were over his chest and his lips were pursed together in an indistinguishable line. Chuck soft brown eyes hardened immediately when he observed his friend's stature. He pulled away from Sarah and offered her one more pining look and then he stood up and went to confront the youngest hunter.

Dean watched the two men warily. He gravitated from his brother until he lingered a foot or two from where Sarah was currently residing. He felt the unresolved tension between the both of them reach a boiling point; he did not want to become collateral damage.

"So, what do you want to talk about Sam?" Chuck asked cordially.

Sam bit his lip. He was practically fuming.

Sarah and Dean knew simultaneously what was coming next. A shot of adrenaline had her wanting to get up and defend Chuck, but Dean was quicker than she was in her current state. He placed a hand on either side of her shoulder and kept her seated.

"You're in no condition to be able to stand upright," he explained lowly, "much less fight for Chuck's honor."

Wanting to retort, Sarah went quiet when she heard the crack of a fist connecting with bone. She refocused on Chuck and Sam and saw that the former was on the ground, holding the side of his face. Sam was standing above him and rubbing his raw knuckles.

"Sammy!" Dean chided his brother with a shout. "Do you really think that was necessary?"

Sam did not respond. He kept glaring menacingly at Chuck, who revealed to be sporting a nice shiner on his right cheek. It was red and swelling up already; trickles of blood rolled down as well. Chuck however, after grimacing and rubbing his wound briefly, was unaffected.

Sarah actually noticed that Chuck's demeanor all together had shifted into something much more…lethal. Her eyes widened when she saw the dazed-off look in the pair of brown irises replace the pained expression he wore earlier.

"Oh, no," Dean heard her whisper aloud.

He questioned her, perplexed, "Why, oh no?"

Chuck sprang up to his feet and acted as though he hadn't been punched in the face. His figure was rigid and wound up like a spring board, ready to strike on a moment's notice. Sarah was waiting for the Intersect to activate and now that it had, she found herself actually worrying for the youngest Winchester.

"He has no idea what he's up against."

Dean had no clue either. He watched Chuck like an oddity.

"Are you ready to talk to me yet, huh?" Sam verbalized his anger by yelling. "Or do I have to resort to violence to get the truth out of you?"

Chuck did not answer, only continued to study his opponent. Sam took this as offensive and growled under his breath.

He took a daunting step to Chuck, getting in his face. "Why are you so damn stubborn? All I want to do is talk about this. Tell me what's going on or else I'll tell her what you did!"

Chuck's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't you dare say a word…"

Sam smirked. He leveled himself up against Chuck, who was at equal height with him. He shoved Chuck forcefully as a source of instigation. But instead of a confession, Sam was met with the sole of a Converse shoe.

"Holy shit," Dean cried in surprise.

Sarah watched Chuck roundhouse kick Sam into the ground with her mouth open wide. She saw this coming from a mile away but it still didn't take from the Intersect 2.0's shock value. With each new display of expertly obtained abilities Chuck received from the computer, Sarah became more in fear of it rather than impressed by it.

Even so, she could not help but to mentally chuckle when Dean mumbled, "Jesus, he's like fucking Chuck Norris," and then left her side to check on his brother.

Chuck had his feet in a wide stance, his arms up in a defensive position. He was frozen like this temporarily until the sounds of muffled groans and the sight of blood gushing out of Sam's nostrils snapped him from the flash's effects.

He blinked back the tunnel-vision and his arms dropped to his sides. He exchanged a guilty look with Sarah, who was still marveling at him in awestruck-terror. Chuck felt a twinge of despair for hurting Sam; he didn't mean for it to happen.

But the Intersect had a mind of its own and it didn't appreciate being goaded by threats or physical acts, especially when it's directly or indirectly concerning Sarah.

Not moving from where he stood, Chuck inhaled a sharp breath of air and allowed for his heart beat to subside to a normal rhythm. He glanced over to Sam and Dean. The elder brother helped his younger sibling to his feet. Sam had his hands placed over his nose but the blood dripped in between his laced fingers.

Dean slapped his brother's shoulder encouragingly, but his eyes were glued to Chuck. It put Chuck on edge when he was on the receiving end of such a confounding look. He was filled with apprehension of what would happen next.

"I'm not gonna ask you how you did that," Dean said calmly as he propped Sam upright. "If it was some demon mojo or not, 'cause I know for a fact that for as long as I've known your sorry ass, you could barely fight to save your life."

Chuck felt the pang of his chest infect his heart with shame. Of course Dean would think anything out of the ordinary would be a result of the supernatural. It was because hunters had the ability to understand to "get" the actions and motives of the ethereal and hellish beings while something logical and human was out of the question, foreign to them.

"I'm not possessed," he replied. He brought his hand to his bloodstained shirt and yanked the collar down just enough for Sam and Dean to bear witness to the similar tattoo they had inked on their skin.

Sarah observed this in silence. Hearing talks of "possession" and "demons" jarred frightening images that came in the form of her nightmares. It even started to restore some semblance of what memories were fragmented from her car accident.

She considered that they were just code-words for something else, possibly more sinister. But now, it was obvious that they were discussing everything out in the open. At least she now had an understanding for what the tattoo meant.

"I really don't care where you picked up a life's worth of martial arts training, Chuck. We all have secrets and I'll be frank with you, I don't give a flying shit." Dean casted a brief glance to Sarah and then focused back to Chuck. "But what my brother and I want to know is important; not only for us, but for Sarah and yourself. So, can you save us the time and energy and just give us the gist of what we're facing here?"

Chuck stammered, "I, uh, don't know how to tell you—"

"Did you make a deal with a demon or not!" Sam's voice expelled from behind his hands over his nose. "It's a yes or no question!"

Sarah listened to the conversation while maneuvering to her knees and gaining enough leverage to push up to her feet. Chuck's jumbled words came off weak and unconfident, like he was reverting back to the man she first met at the Buy More years ago. Whatever this "deal" was, it was vital enough to make Chuck a bumbling fool and the Winchester brothers a couple of enraged and terrified individuals, each respectfully.

Forcing herself to stand, Sarah wobbled unbalanced and her head spun in dizziness. She waited for the world to stop whirling around and then she decided to enter the conversation.

"Chuck, what's going on?"

Looking at her with huge eyes, Chuck swallowed thickly. He fidgeted in uncertainty. His shoes dug nervously into the mud.

"I-I never made the deal," he relented shamefully. "I didn't get the chance to."

Sam exhaled a breath of relief but Dean still was skeptical. Sarah was beyond confused.

"How is that possible? Sarah, she's standing right here, alive and breathing…why isn't she six feet under?" the oldest hunter asked.

Sarah was paralyzed by this admittance. Her heart practically leapt into her throat and she choked on it.

It dawned on her. Why she couldn't remember hardly anything after the car accident. She had died…? She was dead. How did that make any sense? It wasn't possible. People don't die and then are brought back to life without any affliction from the death.

_I'm not wounded_, she reaffirmed by glancing over her body and finding no injuries. _All I have is a bad case of short-term amnesia and_, her eyes wandered to the z-shaped scar on her wrist. _This…._

"—Listen, I tried making a deal with the crossroads demon. She was going to give me six weeks maximum." Chuck's voice brought Sarah back to the present. It sounded as though his mind was working again and it was back up at full capacity. "So I agreed to it, and it was going to be official but—"

"But what, Chuck?"

Sarah was concentrating too hard on Chuck to remember which brother had asked the question. She tried deciphering what Chuck was saying through his facial expression. He was holding something important back purposefully. But his face betrayed his less than stellar attempt to derail the truth. Sarah saw right through his façade.

The Winchesters sadly could not.

"When we kissed, and she had possession of my contract and Sarah was supposedly OK, I killed her before she could do anything with it."

Sarah asked telepathically. _Why are you lying, Chuck?_

Dean frowned. "So what you're saying is that you found a loophole in the deal?" The way he said it sounded bitter and envious.

Chuck nodded. "I learned from your mistakes."

His words felt like a punch to the gut to Dean. Sam saw this and wiped a bloody hand from his nose and narrowed his eyes down with major reservations.

"When Dean made his deal, I looked for every possible way out, every loophole, anything," he reflected hauntingly. "And it couldn't be done. How is it fair that you figured it out when we couldn't?"

Sarah sensed resentment in Sam's voice. Childlike jealousy lurked beneath as well.

Chuck gave Sam a resigned look. He was tired and worn out and had enough of the constant bickering and pointing of fingers. Running a hand through his mused-up hair, he decided to stop the discussion before it escalated into another fight.

"It's late, Sam. I don't want to talk about this anymore." He brushed past the opposite's shoulder and spoke low enough to where neither Dean nor Sarah could hear what he said. "Tomorrow I promise, I will tell you everything. Just trust me."

Sam nodded stiffly. "Fine."

Their quick exchange ceased and Chuck left Sam and Dean in his wake and approached Sarah. She did not realize it, but she was unconsciously shaking. It was just after midnight and the air became unbearably chilly.

Chuck addressed her softly. "We need to get you in the car or you're going to freeze to death."

It was ironic when he mentioned the possibility of dying—again. Sarah had trouble wrapping her head around the notion, but perhaps later on they'd have a real honest talk about all of this paranormal insanity.

Taking off his jacket, Chuck threw the extra layer of clothing over her shoulders. She pulled the jacket tighter to her body and reveled in its warmth. Ready to leave this horrid place, she made an attempt at moving her feet. She found it to be near impossible. She was so numb and lightheaded that she couldn't feel her body any longer.

Chuck cracked a grim smile. He stopped Sarah's futile attempts by placing his hands on either side of her slender waist. She glanced at him curiously.

"You want me to carry you?" he offered kindly.

Nothing would make her happier, but Sarah felt urged to decline rather than allow him to whisk her away. It wasn't in her nature to ask for help. Nor was it to be the helpless one.

In any case, Chuck must've seen the guarded look in her eyes and never gave her the chance to reject him. He took a deep breath and picked her up so that he held her in a cradle. It was reminiscent of newlyweds; the groom carrying the bride in his arms.

"Chuck, y-you re-really don't h-have to do t-this," Sarah chattered involuntarily. Her arms were linked around his neck and she rested her head on his chest. His heart thumped in a steady metronome that soothed her into a state of calmness. It was a lullaby.

Chuck responded cheerfully as he began his short trek to the Impala. "I know I don't have to carry you, but it doesn't mean I don't want to. And don't try to tell me you're OK to walk because you feel like an icicle."

Expecting a rebuff, Chuck lowered his eye line to find Sarah snuggled into the crook of his neck, already fast asleep. Her arms loosened around his neck and fell gracefully from his shoulders to only rest on her stomach. He was captivated by her peaceful form. With her eyes closed and lax, it reminded him of her death. The only difference was that she was breathing ever so steadily and her skin felt warm and alive pressed against him. Chuck promised himself that he would never take these small moments for granted ever again.

Knowing that he only had days—weeks—maybe even months to spend with her, he had to make the most of every second he had left.

Heaving her into a more comfortable position for the both of them, Chuck sighed when he looked far ahead and saw Sam and Dean talking amongst themselves. Every so often, Dean would turn and verify that Chuck was still behind him. Seeing that he was at the rear of the pack of hunters, with his girl safely wrapped in his arms, Dean smiled satisfied.

This both simultaneously unsettled and eased Chuck's conscious. It was bothersome because it was obvious in Dean's dancing green eyes that he was imagining something perverse was going on between him and Sarah. Everything related back to sex when it came to Dean Winchester. Sex or pie. Sometimes both.

However, Chuck was feeling relieved because the tiniest of smiles coming from the eldest hunter meant that he couldn't be angry. Or if he was, he was hiding it pretty damn well.

He hoped that once they took the time to rest and have a break that the four of them could somehow have a "heart to heart" and get everyone on the same page.

Because as of right now; Sam and Dean are both highly skeptical about whether or not the deal Chuck never made was real or fake.

Sarah believes that the brothers are criminals—Chuck wasn't saying they weren't; they are to an extent just as he was as well—and that the three of them were bona fide mental cases. When Chuck took a quick peek at Sarah while in mid confrontation with Sam, he saw a doubt and incredulous concern making her features. She did not know what to think of what she was hearing.

This alone confirmed for Chuck that Sarah would have to know his secret sooner or later. He stared into his arms and sucked in a frustrated breath of air.

_How am I going to do this?_

He shut his eyes when he realized that the next few days were going to give "hell on earth" a whole new meaning. Seeing the Impala's headlights flicker and Dean's voice call out for him to "hurry your slow ass," Chuck bowed his head and cursed under his breath.

"Shit."

He hoped that Sarah was too absorbed with the bliss of being asleep to hear his voice strain on the verge of mania and dread. She'd be listening to enough of it the next time she'd awaken.

* * *

End Chapter 7

Next chapter: 8-- TBI. Sarah wakes up and learns how wrong she was about a certain lovable (or not so lovable?) nerd. Chuck tells Sam and Dean about how Sarah was resurrected and what the consequences of that was. And then an old familiar hunting buddy drops by and is bearing gifts for Chuck. =D Yay

Ps. Did anyone watch the Dexter season 4 finale? If so, did anyone cry like I did? Nooooo Rita! Was she annoying? Fuck yeah. But did she deserve this cruel fate? Nope. Nor did baby Harrison. Dex on the other hand...he was stupid and selfish. But he's also hot so it makes up for it.


	8. Part of the Deal

**An:** Hey y'all! Hope everyone had a great holiday! I'm here with a new chapter. It was suppose to include the talk, but as you can see, this is pretty long in itself. A lot of reviewers were curious about the nature of Chuck's deal. So here it is. Also, hopefully it will give some inclination of the Winchester's and Chuck's relationship. Please say I did Sam and Dean justice. And Chuck might be OOC, but its delibrate since he's sort of a different character. The more he's submersd in the SPN universe, the more OOC he'll be portrayed. Just a FYI. He'll be more in character in the sequel. Anyway, I have part II of this done already. It just needs to be editted some. Then after that, its a short epilogue and then a short preview of what's to come.

**R&R like always!**

* * *

**Chapter 8- Part of the Deal**

"_Don't give up on the world  
we weren't just born to die  
we weren't born just to fade away  
what do you think mistakes are for  
to walk through naturally  
its part of the deal_

_You're saving my life  
its all part of the deal  
saving my life  
its part of the deal"—Part of the Deal, Sense Field_

**~*~**

**A Day later…**

**(Roughly speaking)**

**Chappell Hill, Texas**

**12:35 PM**

Sometimes, he liked to pretend he was alone; completely alone.

Maybe post apocalypse.

It wasn't for any particular reason, other than he just figured with the way things were going now, that it actually happening might not be that far out of reach. The sixty six seals that imprisoned Lucifer were already broken, thanks to Sam and Dean. Not that he was blaming them personally or anything; Chuck knew it easily could have been him who released the devil if the conditions were right.

But thankfully, he was too busy dismantling evil spy organizations and trying to find his father so he could remove the damn computer in his head. If any of that had gone according to plan, well there was a tiny minuscule chance he could've prevented Hell from rising.

_More like slim to no chance, but at least I was trying to be optimistic about it. That's more than I could say about some people._

And by people, Chuck meant the other hunters. They had already given up long before the fight really had begun. Once the last Seal was broken ala Sam using his less than orthodox powers (hopefully now long forgotten) to waste the first demon created by Satan himself: Lilith, the entire hunter community became enraged. Mostly at Sam for going Darth Vader on everyone; Dean was equally condemned for not being able to stop his little brother.

_Not like it mattered,_ He thought cynically. _Everything was already in motion and has been for years now. _Who would have thought that the angels were the masterminds in jumpstarting Judgment Day?

"Such…absolute crap," he sighed.

He did not want to automatically accuse all of the angels in Heaven of being total traitorous bastards. No, there were some that were still fighting the good fight. Those few were still loyal and believed in God and the sanctity of Earth. Sadly, the only one he could think of was Castiel. He went rogue and now was cut off from Heaven. He did it all for Dean too. Anyone could tell how much the angel admired Dean. Now that was some serious dedication.

Of course, there was a second angel that seemed to be on the Human's side of the war. Chuck was still a bit uncertain about his motives but it did not outweigh the fact that he trusted the angel with is life. In fact, he trusted the angel with Sarah's life as well.

And in trusting this angel, Chuck had forfeited himself to become his designated vessel.

How he was going to explain this to Sam or Dean was going to be a sight to see.

"God, help me out here—"

The honk of a loud obnoxious horn and the roaring of an engine cut Chuck off in mid-prayer. The cacophony was so intense and piercing, that it deafened his ears and shot a jolt of adrenaline through him like a shock of lightning.

Chuck opened his eyes. He was lying on top of the hood of the Impala with his arms behind his head and his chin angled up to the sky. It was early in the afternoon and the sun was up at its highest, the rays bathed the dreary town with promise of warmth and life. The vibrations rumbled beneath where he rested and it startled him.

The car honked its horn again. It sounded more insistent the second time around. While rubbing his eyes, Chuck cautiously moved his body into a sitting position, almost sliding off the roof in the process. His eyes frantically searched his surroundings but everything was only a big bright blur.

Kneading his temples while his head throbbed, Chuck heard the familiar bark-like laugh echo in his eardrums. He groaned inwardly. The vehicle's engine was suddenly cut short and it was soon followed by the slamming of a car door.

"Oh I'm glad I finally got your attention. For a moment there I thought you were dead."

Chuck was still seeing sun spots in front of his eyes; it made Dean's face appear slightly blurred. He nevertheless was able to visualize the triumphant smirk that held in the older man's expression.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Chuck coolly. He repressed his annoyance from afflicting his voice.

"I wasn't bluffing when I told you I'd make your life miserable the next time I catch you snoozing on my _baby_."

Chuck yawned and slowly found himself becoming accustomed to his surroundings. His vision cleared and he glanced downward to see Dean grinning devilishly in tandem of wiping his hands with a grease-coated rag.

He muttered, "You couldn't just have asked me nicely to 'Get off!' like a civil human being?"

Dean's response consisted of tossing the vilified rag at Chuck's face. It landed on top of his head and he shot Dean an incredulous look. Removing the thing from his head, he swung his legs over the side of the Impala and slid off. His shoes touched the hot pavement and he flung the nasty rag back at Dean who caught it easily.

"It's the price you pay to play the game, Bartowski." Dean explained cheekily. "Everyone gets the same treatment when concerning the Impala. Sam doesn't get off easy either; I don't play favorites."

Rolling his eyes, Chuck replied. "I really thought you were going to grow out of the whole, 'I-love-the-Impala-more-than-any-real-woman' phase." He scrunched up his face a little and added, "It's not as endearing as it was when you were sixteen, Dean. It's just borderline creepy now."

"If you had a car, you'd understand why I treat _her_ with more respect than any ole girl."

"You know it's just a car, Dean. Not love." Chuck quipped. He pressed his back against the sleek black coat of the Impala. He shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for the inevitable comeback.

The result was less than spectacular.

Dean grumbled, "Yeah, well, shut your pie-hole, alright?"

Chuck seemed to not to have heard him though. He was caught up in his thoughts again. His eyes lifted to the cloudless ocean of blue and a faint smile crossed his lips. It was the first real summer day of the year that was just _awesome_. To think that it was achieved simply by just eradicating a town of demons was uplifting.

A warm gust of wind breezed by and Chuck closed his eyes briefly, feeling the summer air blow through him. When it passed, he reflected on what it took to correct the evil manifestation. Everyone who lived in Chappell Hill was victims of demonic possession. About a third or so of them were killed by Sam, Dean and himself. The others had suffered so badly from the mental and physical strain that when the demons ditched their meat-suits, they were already dead.

The small twitch of a smile faded into a brooding grimace. After everything they had done to save these innocent people, they were still too late. The once mildly populated town in Texas became a desolate ghost town. It would take a week or less before the cops would come and try to figure out the anomaly. It'd only fuel the fire that some strange stuff is in the works and would get loads of people in panic mode.

_Which is the last thing we need right now._ Chuck frowned, _Panic and chaos._

Thoughts of the hunt had Chuck concerned for the future. If more of the cases would be small towns being completely destroyed by demons—or Lucifer's army—sooner or later, they'd escalate the threat and attack more populated areas. Large cities would become major targets and if places like Los Angeles or New York fell, well, Chuck did not want to think about that. All he was sure of was that the small group of hunters in the United States was not enough to beat the apocalypse by themselves.

They surely would die. Die trying, but it will be a futile effort. Sometimes, Chuck wished against Dean's stubbornness and that his friend would just forget the pride and say "yes." If anyone could defeat Hell it would be the Archangel Michael. He did it before, didn't he?

"—so, when do you think your lady friend is gonna be up?"

Cracking an eye open, Chuck saw Dean standing in front of him. He had a beer in his palm and took a long swig.

"She has a name you know…." He mumbled irritably.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, it's Sarah right? Well, I'm not very good with names. I remember faces though." He grinned wolfishly. "And you can't forget a face like hers, can you?"

Chuck folded his arms over his chest. He pushed off the car's frame and maneuvered to the bench adjacent to it. He claimed an unopened bottle of beer and while popping the cap off, and said with his back turned to Dean.

"No, you can't," he whispered lowly. Then he whirled around and smiled brightly. "Last time I checked, Sarah was still asleep. But Castiel is in the room and looking after her for me; he said he'll get me once she's up."

Dean let out a long whistle. "Man, it's been what, like almost a whole day since she passed out, right? She must've been in some serious need of R&R."

Sipping at the lip of the bottle and feeling the cool liquid drip down his throat, Chuck nodded.

"She's been through a lot. I don't think she had slept much since I left," His voice dropped an octave lower and became infested with guilt.

Dean sensed this and said encouragingly. "Hey, don't worry about it dude. I can guarantee when she wakes up, you two love birds will be inseparable."

Chuck looked to Dean questioningly. He hoped that Dean was right. It was doubtful and just wishful thinking that when Sarah does wake up, they'll be closer than ever. He had lied too much. He betrayed her trust. If she was smart, she'd get reassigned and just forget about him.

"Anyway, not to change subjects or anything," he heard Dean say conversationally. He knew that's exactly what was intended. "But how's your sis? We never got a chance to talk much about what's going on with the family." He flashed his white teeth. "So, how's the magnificent Eleanor Faye Bartowski?"

Chuck choked on his beer. He sputtered into a fit of coughs before he could settle down. He wiped a hand over his mouth and stifled a small chuckle.

He cleared his throat. "It's Eleanor Faye Bartowski—Woodcomb now actually, Dean. She's married…Sorry."

Dean's eyes bugged out of his skull. His fingers slipped from its grasped on his beer and it fell to the ground; it shattered on impact. Chuck lowered his gaze and watched the wasted alcohol seep into the pavement. He winced.

"H—how?" Dean stuttered uncharacteristically. "When did this happen?"

"Uh, this last April," Chuck explained. "I sent you and Sam an invite to the wedding but you guys never RSVP'd."

"We had more important things to worry about! You know, like preventing the apocalypse from happening!"

"And we all know how that turned out," Chuck said under his breath. Dean heard this but decided to let it go.

"Whatever, I think I got Sam's laptop fucked up when I went on the Irene Demova porn site. We couldn't check email or anything."

Chuck snorted. "But I thought you liked the Busty Asian Beauties?"

Dean's lips curved into a sly grin, "I got a virus from that one too. Sammy got wise and blocked me from that site before I could 'use' it again."

Finishing the last of the beer, Chuck replied. "You have not changed one bit."

"Yeah, well, apparently everyone else has. So who's the lucky guy?"

"His name is Devon. He's a doctor—a heart surgeon—"

Dean rolled his eyes and made a noncommittal noise.

"—and he's pretty damn awesome actually." Chuck finished. Recent memories of Captain Awesome learning Chuck's secret life as a spy and learning to keep it on the down low were fresh in his mind. He smiled thinking about his brother-in-law.

There was a sigh and then, "At least El is happy. I guess she got over the hunting life, huh?" He sounded wistful.

"Going to college made her see things differently. She wanted a real life, Dean. A normal life." As the words tumbled out of his mouth, Chuck couldn't help but compare how similar being a hunter and a spy was. The only difference was hunting was inherent while being a spy was a choice…well, most of the time.

Dean nodded in silent understanding. He ran hand through his hair and glanced over Chuck and saw a silhouetted figure approaching them.

"Hey, Sam's back."

Chuck raised a brow. He looked over his shoulder and saw the younger Winchester walking toward him. He had two plastic bags in either hand. Switching back to Dean, he noticed a look of hunger in his green eyes.

Chuck knew that look.

Like a child, he brushed past Chuck and ambled to his brother.

"Dude, please say you got the goods?!"

Sam neared the bench and sat the bags down. He glanced up to see Dean bouncing on his feet. Holding his hands up in surrender, Sam gave Dean full access to the contents inside of the bags.

Chuck walked to the bench and took a seat. He placed the empty beer bottle on the wood surface and watched nonplussed as Dean scavenged the bags for what he was looking for. Sam gave Chuck a look and then sat on the opposite side of the bench.

"Oh man!" Dean whooped happily. "Praise the lord in which we cannot find, I have seen the light and thy name is…." He hoisted the cardboard box over his head. "Pie!"

"You're welcome, Dean."

"Please tell me you got—"

"—Apple? Yeah, I did."

The older brother revered his sibling, "You know me too well."

Ignoring his antics, Sam shook his head and said to Chuck. "The town is completely empty. There are corpses in the streets every so often but other than that, it's just us left."

Chuck nodded. He searched in a bag and pulled out his lunch. He grabbed another beer and took a giant bite of his turkey sandwich.

"I'm assuming what you're suggesting is that we should ransack the place later?" he asked after he swallowed his first bite.

"Why not?" said Sam. "We're low on supplies and I know you don't have anything. I think it'd be a great idea."

"I second that motion," Dean interjected.

The two hunters glanced briefly at him and saw a mouthful of pie stuffed inside his cheeks. It was wonder that he hadn't choked on it yet. They turned their attention back to each other.

"Fine, I'll go with you," Chuck conceded. "But after we stock up, we need to think about relocating. Who knows when the police catch wind about the massacre that went on here?"

What Chuck was really worried about was if Casey couldn't keep Beckman's curiosity and suspicions at bay. She'd unleash the federal dogs to track her precious Intersect down. And once she would locate him, it would be awfully hard to explain why he and several other fugitives were hanging out in a town filled with dead bodies.

It was best if they leave as soon as possible. Going home was actually the smartest option, but he didn't have a clue when he would ever be safe to do so.

"Shit you're right." Sam cursed. "I think we'll move on tonight I guess; get as far away as we can."

Dean burped. He pushed the empty carton of pie away from him. He rubbed his stomach and lolled his head so it was staring directly up at the sun. "That's the plan then? We get the lady friend—I mean Sarah up and Adam and then we jet out of here?"

Sam was about to confirm it but then stopped and palmed his face. "Dean, isn't Bobby stopping by though?"

Looking at him he nodded vigorously, "Hey, yeah he is." His glazed over eyes fixed themselves on to Chuck. "He wanted to talk to you, Chuckles. He told me on the phone that he has something special for you," he teased lightly.

Wiping the crumbs from his lips, Chuck crunched up the sandwich wrapper into a ball and tossed it into the trash. He faced the Winchesters; his interest was piqued.

He asked, "Really? What is it?"

Sam and Dean kept quiet. They only exchanged quick looks. Chuck could tell they knew what it was but was purposely keeping him out of the loop.

Sam leaned forward. "We'll tell you what it is after you tell us the truth about this deal bullshit. You owe us that much."

Taken back by Sam's bluntness, Chuck settled himself and spoke evenly. "Okay, I did promise you I'd spill it. But please swear that you won't tell anyone."

"Who would we tell?" Sam inquired honestly.

Dean chuckled. "We'll I'm going to go tell it to a bottle of Coors."

Face red, Chuck specified. "I meant don't tell Sarah."

The brothers stared at him confusedly, "Why not?" they asked simultaneously.

"Because…." Chuck averted his gaze. He was focusing on his hands. "Because it was one of the rules I had to follow in order for this to work."

"You can tell us everything, Chuck," Sam encouraged. "We won't say a word." He gave Dean a sidelong glance. "Right, Dean?"

Dean mimicked the boy-scout gesture, "Scout's honor."

Heaving a sigh, Chuck closed his eyes. The next time he opened them, he began his retelling of what really happened that night.

"OK, so I never actually made a deal with the crossroads demon. She was dead before I could even kiss her—"

* * *

"_I want to know what is going to happen once this becomes final."_

_Chuck stood across from the angelic being disguised as Bryce. He had just told the angel he would sacrifice anything to bring Sarah back among the living. There was a question of consent and without thinking; Chuck foolishly said the magic word._

_Not-Bryce studied the hunter for a long time before responding. When he noticed Chuck was growing increasingly antsy over the silence, he relented._

"_You will be my vessel for the war," he explained. "This body in which you see me in is temporary and is only really a mere shell. As you know, Bryce Larkin is dead…."_

_Chuck flinched but stood his ground._

"_And his corpse was never meant to be used in this capacity. What makes a human vessel so unique, so powerful, is that their soul is unlike any other."_

_Absorbing this, Chuck only nodded in understanding. _

_Not-Bryce took a step closer to him and smiled grimly. "You must know you're a special human, Charles."_

_He stiffened involuntarily. "People keep telling me this. But no one will say why."_

_An index finger pointed to his forehead, "You're mind is different. It retains information and is capable of allowing an infinite amount of knowledge to be stored there." The finger dragged down to Chuck's chest and rested where his heart was. "Your soul is the same. It makes you able to endure and host an unlimited amount of grace."_

_Chuck blinked. "Grace," he reiterated. "That's what gives an angel its mojo right?"_

"_Yes. And only a few humans are special enough to contain an angel within them. We are unlike demons in the sense that where they can possess anyone without trouble, we are pickier with whom we choose."_

"_You're saying I'm one of the lucky people that can be your guys' vessels," Chuck stated plainly._

"_I would not be here if you weren't."_

_There was a beat._

"_I'm like Sam and Dean then, aren't I?"_

"_Not quite."_

"_How so?" Chuck asked._

"_They can only be the true vessels for Lucifer and Michael, nobody else. You however, can be a vessel for any angel. Even if the Winchesters never give their consent, either one of my brothers could use you as a host as a good replacement."_

_Chuck combed a hand through his tousled hair. "In other words, I'm the O blood type of the angels? I'm universal."_

"_I have never thought about such an analogy, but yes."_

"_Great," he muttered. "That just took this to a whole new level of complicated."_

"_I don't see why you're so unenthused about this. More humans often than not would pray for their entire lives to be in the position you are in. It's looked upon as admirable."_

"_I'm not most humans," Chuck answered. "And I see it as giving up. Admirable is doing what's right, not what's easy." His voice was resolute and firm._

_The angel considered this. "To choose the road less traveled makes all the difference," he quoted with a nod. "As much as I agree with your sentiments, it's fair to say you are making a hypocrite of yourself." _

"_What gives you that idea?"_

"_You have two choices: Make this deal with me, or just let nature takes its course and allow Sarah to pass on to the other side in peace. Both are difficult decisions, but wouldn't you say that bringing her back to life is the easy way out, not to mention selfish?"_

_Chuck's response was an outburst of passion, "Whatever choice I make, I'm the selfish one. I let Sarah die and I'm basically valuing my life above hers. I sacrifice myself over to you, and I'll bring her back. Either way, I'm doing it based on my wants and needs."_

"_Is it because she deserves to be alive that you wish to resurrect her or is it because you cannot bear to live without her?"The angel asked seriously._

"_If she was gone for good, I'd give myself over to you with no questions asked." He said. "I think that gives you the gist of what I'm trying to convey here."_

_For the first time since the midnight discussion had begun, the angel wearing Bryce's face appeared to be expressing human-like qualities. He became flustered, like what Chuck had said reminded him of some past experience. He glared at the dirt road with balled fists. He expelled a breath into the frigid night air._

"_She will hate you for doing this," he spoke grimly. His eyes still focused on the ground. "When the time comes, that is. She'll feel betrayed."_

_Chuck rubbed his hands together when the night grew colder. He thought about when he downloaded the Intersect 2.0. He remembered the sorrow instilled in Sarah's face. "It wouldn't be the first time."_

"_And you can live with yourself?"_

"_Do you want me to be your vessel or not?" Chuck snapped, frustrated. "Because I'm all set for you to fly me around the globe and help kill the Devil. I just want this to be over, ok? You're the one who seems to be waffling around on the issue."_

_This struck a chord. Not-Bryce warningly retorted, "Do not accuse me of being indecisive. You have no right to tell me…"_

"_Excuse me, then. You must be just gutless."_

_The angel barred his teeth. He growled. "You better show me some respect."_

"_Why?" Chuck asked. "Because you're a big scary angel and you might smite me?" He laughed bitterly. "I've heard all about you guys. Sounds to me like the only angel in Heaven that isn't a complete dick is the one you kicked out!"_

Way to go Chuck, keep on instigating the angel. Don't stop now, you're on a roll.

"_Listen to me, you immature excuse for a human adult." Not-Bryce's eyes were flecked with gold. "You don't have the slightest inkling what I've gone through, alright? Heaven had abandoned me a long, long time ago. I'm nothing like them."_

"_You fell?"_

"_I left." The angel stated._

"_Why?"_

"_Because opposed to popular belief, not all the angels in Heaven loved humanity like God expected them too. I was one of very few that valued the lives of the humans more than to our own kind. Most despised me for this, and as soon as Father disappeared, I followed his example. I know a lost cause when I see one."_

_At this, Chuck smiled. "And that's all the reaffirmation I needed."_

_Blinking, the angel frowned confusedly. "What?"_

"_I wanted to make sure I was dealing with the real deal." He explained. "Not some manipulative jerk like I've been hearing most of you family is."_

"_I will never betray you," Not-Bryce said, his calm restored. "I will never lie to you either. I will prove to you I am nothing like my family."_

_Chuck folded his arms over his chest. He saw the almost desperate look for acceptance linger in the angel's eyes. Poor guy. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he said. "I believe you. It's getting freezing out here, so let's get a move on."_

_The angel nodded. He lifted his index and middle finger back to Chuck's forehead. Chuck felt a warmth spread throughout his body. It felt like wildfire. "To gain your trust fully, I want you to know that I won't take away your free will just yet. Once I feel the time is right, I will come back for you. Do you agree?"_

_Chuck shot him a dubious look, but kept quiet. He nodded._

"_However," he continued. "I would like to make some provisions you need to adhere to."_

"_Go for it."_

"_One: You may never tell Sarah about this. It will do irreversible damage to her if she were to find out."_

"_Why?"_

"_She is technically dead. Heaven won't take her and neither will Hell. She is stuck in purgatory and to bring her back, I must grip her tight and restore her soul to its rightful body. She will see who I am in my true visage, but won't remember any of it upon her awakening. If you tell her the truth, she'll remember her death. This will simply destroy her psyche as it's very difficult to think you were dead and then accept being just miraculously brought back to life."_

"_I won't say a word to her. But I can tell anyone else?"_

"_Yes," the angel verified. "And Two: You will pledge your loyalty not to Heaven, but to me."_

"_And who are you exactly?"_

"_An Arch—former Archangel I suppose." He said lamely._

_Chuck's forehead creased. "An Archangel…?" He began to ramble, "Which one? You can't be Michael…or Lucifer. Raphael already has a human vessel; are you Gabriel? Or are you—?"_

_The Archangel cut him off before he got too carried away. "I cannot tell you, not yet. It's far too dangerous for my name to be spoken, if at all. There are angels on both sides that want me dead. So all I ask of you, Charles—"_

"_Chuck."_

_The angel tilted his head to the side. "Pardon me?"_

"_Call me Chuck."_

"_Chuck… you are going to have to trust me."_

_These very words continuously have echoed through Chuck's head for the last two years. They started with Sarah. She said them on the beach when the dawn greeted the new day. He ended up trusting her. He never regretted it once. _

"_I trust you."_

_There was a sudden burst of bright light and Chuck's eyes were blinded by its intensity. A tickling sensation surged through his veins. His blood felt like it was an inferno, boiling hot. He gasped for breath and when the light receded, he was reacquainted with the solitary of the night and nothing else._

_Chuck searched in each direction for the angel. But after a while, he saw it to be pointless. Instead, his eyes lowered to the dirt and he saw his knife resting in the crossroads. The sharp tip was pointing in the direction of the grand poplar tree. Over the hedges, Sarah was being brought back from the dead in the fields of bluebonnet flowers. _

* * *

When Chuck finished his tale, he grew brutally quiet. He hadn't been able to meet either Sam or Dean's eyes during the entire recollection. He did hear the sound of one of them taking a long sip of beer. The glass was set on the bench top and it made a startling noise like a pin was dropped in an empty room.

Sam was the first to speak, "Chuck. You did this fully aware of the consequences. You weren't tricked or forced, correct?"

Raising his gaze until they met Sam's emerald eyes, Chuck nodded. "I did this on my own accord. It was the right decision at the time and I'd do it over again if I was able to."

"You love her?" Dean asked suddenly. He looked at Chuck with curiosity.

"I love her more than anything."

Hearing Chuck reaffirm his affection for this woman he knew next to nothing about, Sam sat back and became pensive. He could not blame Chuck for doing this. He was always so different from Dean and himself. Chuck was the same kind and genuine guy who had never compromised who he was. At his heart, he retained the innocence and integrity of morals that Sam wished he could've hung on to. Chuck was selfless (no matter if the angel accused him of the opposite) and if either Sam or Dean had died, he was confident Chuck would've made the deal just as easily.

Dean's voice brought Sam back to the discussion. "You know Chuck, maybe you won't have to be an angel condom after all."

Chuck looked surprised. Sam elbowed his brother and shot him a glare. "What are you talking about?"

Dean glared right back. "Dude, chill out. What I'm getting to is this: Sam and I have been looking high and low for the Colt. It's this gun that—"

"—that can kill anything." Chuck's tone grew increasingly hopeful. He received odd looks from Dean and Sam respectively. He shrugged. "My Dad, he told me about it a few years ago."

Dean chuckled, "Good ole Mr. Bartowski."

Chuck continued where he left off, "You guys actually think if we find it, we can off the Devil?"

"We're both pretty confident that it should do the trick," Sam said confidently.

"All the demons and shit are making a big deal about the thing. If they're so afraid of it, it _must_ be the weapon to ice Lucifer with." Dean explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

A beaming smile appeared on Chuck's face. "Then it's settled, huh? When I get back home, I'll make sure my first priority is to find the Colt. Once we get it, we track down Lucifer and—" He mimed pulling the trigger of a gun. "Bam! He dies and the apocalypse is over."

Sam grinned. "Which means you'll be free of your deal."

Holding what looked to be his third or fourth beer, Dean raised his bottle into the air. "OK, I think this calls for a toast, my friends. Grab a beer guys."

The two younger men traded happy glances before each claimed a beer for themselves. They lifted the bottles alongside Dean's and waited for the toastmaster to make his speech.

Coughing for proper effect, Dean said. "This is it. We find the Colt and we kill the Devil. We systematically save the world and then after it's all said and done, I'm thinking we go to Disneyland."

Chuck laughed and hollered, "Here, here!"

Sam snorted. "Cheers then?"

"Hell yeah, Sammy."

The three hunters clanged their beverages together. In this moment alone, hope was restored not only for Chuck, but for Sam and Dean. They felt more optimistic about stopping the Devil than they ever had before.

**~*~~**~***~****~**

**1:50 PM**

"So, how ya gonna do it?"

Chuck was only half-way done with his beer. He observed that Dean's bottle was dry as a bone. He focused on the elder hunter's face and smiled humorously when he could see that his cheeks were flushed pink.

"How am I going to do what?" he replied.

"Tell that hot piece of ass ya call your girlfriend that ya hunt the spooky stuff for a living?"

Eyes narrowed, Chuck felt his chest constrict and heated emotions spike simultaneously. The overwhelming sensation of a flash and to pummel Dean became front and center. He bit his lip and told himself to calm down. He fought the initial feeling and buried it just in time.

The last thing he needed to do was knock Dean out because he insulted Sarah like she was some random bar skank. Plus, he told himself, he's drunk. He did not mean it.

Sam saw the change in demeanor in Chuck and he took it upon himself to move the discussion forward before his friend couldn't control whatever was wrong with him.

"Dean," he said in a warning tone.

Dean gave him a look that said, "What?"

Shaking his head, Sam went back to Chuck. He seemed to have composed himself.

"Its fine," Chuck waved off Dean's tactless comment dismissively. "I haven't really thought how I was going to explain to _Sarah_ (he stressed her name) about my past."

"What does she think you do?" Sam asked helpfully.

"Well," he began.

_Sarah thinks I'm a bumbling college dropout that got sent top secret government information by a now deceased ex-college buddy turned CIA spy. She's a spy too and it's her job to make sure I stay alive and help aid the country with this acquired intelligence. Not only that, but technically, I'm a spy too. Oh and as a cover, I work as the supervisor of the Nerd Herd at the Buy More. _

Chuck inwardly rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Like he could tell either of them the truth. And so, he had to settle with the condensed and not so honest version.

"—I work at the Buy More. I actually met Sarah because she works next door at a frozen yogurt shop."

There was mixed reactions from both brothers.

"You still work at the Buy More?!" Dean burst out laughing. He almost fell off the bench but Sam held him up. "Haven't you been working there off and on since high school?"

Sam ignored him. "Please tell me you've been hunting at least on the side, Chuck. Being an office drone is not like you."

"Of course I hunted," Chuck said somewhat honestly. "I have just been restricted by a few things."

_24 hour surveillance is just an example of the long laundry list of things._

"Computer installs are a bitch, eh?"

Sam didn't keep his brother from falling the second time around.

Thud!

"Argh," he grunted. "Sammy, why?"

With disregard, Sam concentrated on Chuck. "Whatever, Chuck. I don't care what you've been doing with your life. What we need to focus on is the present here. And that's keeping you from getting your head bitten off by Sarah.

Chuck went pale at the thought. Sarah figuratively "biting heads off" wasn't all that far off from the literal truth. He could almost envision the different scenarios in which he would tell her his secret.

**~*~*~**

**Scenario #1**

"_Sarah, I'm a hunter. I go and fight the supernatural."_

"_You're kidding me."_

"_No…"_

_She gets up and pulls out a gun. While she keeps it aimed at his chest, Sarah backs away out of the room._

"_Where are you going?"_

"_Chuck, you're insane. I'm getting the hell away from you."_

_Door slams._

_Bam!_

**~*~*~**

_**Scenario #2**_

"_Sarah, this is what I do. I kill demons."_

_Sarah stares at him before getting her phone and dialing a number._

"_Who are you calling?"_

_She looks at him like he's scum._

"_I'm calling Beckman. She's going to want to know that the Intersect is a nut job."_

"_Wait, what?"_

"_Oh, and you're going to be in a dark single cell bunker for the rest of your life too."_

_Chuck covers his face, "Dammit."_

**~*~*~**

_**Scenario #3**_

_Sighs, "Ok, third time's the charm. Sarah, I hunt the supernatural."_

_Sarah's eyes water and she begins to cry._

"_Oh my God, Chuck! No, no, no why?"_

"_Uh, I'm sorry?"_

"_I loved you but now I can't be with someone that's delusional. Why didn't I leave with Bryce Larkin?"_

_Chuck's eye twitches. _

**~*~*~**

_**Scenario #4**_

_This will be the final time._

_Arms outstretched, he tells her everything: "Sarah, I go around the US and find the monsters that go bump in the night. I don't get paid for it, but I feel it's my duty to stop crazy shit from happening. And now I'm going to go help kill the Devil."_

_Sarah stares at him with her mouth open. Chuck is oddly expectant. _

_She stands up and it seems like she might hug him. Chuck smiles._

_A knife is thrown._

_Chuck feels a sharp pain in his heart. He looks down and notices the hilt of the blade is stuck in his chest. _

"_Huh, did not expect that." he says with honest surprise._

_And then Bartowski goes down._

**~*~*~**

Chuck blinked furiously out of his fantasies. OK, so none of those ended well.

Sam looked at him strangely and said, "Just tell her the truth and pray that she'll understand. That's all you can hope for."

Dean hoisted himself back to the seat. It looked as though his little spill sobered him up. He winced and rubbed the back of his head.

"Dude, Sam, don't feed Bartowski all that bullshit. Whoever said, 'Honesty is the best policy' was a dick. The guy probably didn't know that the truth gets you nowhere, only pain and disappointment."

"You're really a beacon of hope, you know that?" Chuck said sarcastically. "I feel so much more confident with these words of wisdom…makes me wonder why I was so afraid to tell her in the first place."

"I can sense the sarcasm which means you're actually serious about this."

"Scared as hell, but I've been through worse, right?"

He looked from Dean to Sam. They were staring in opposite directions. Chuck rolled his eyes.

Dean suggested, "All the advice I can you give is that you don't go down the emotional road with her, just go down on her."

Sam's eyes widened, "That—was offensive Dean."

"Hey! It's easier and she'll be distracted!" he said hotly. "Plus it's a win/win situation."

Chuck ignored Dean's remark, "OK, I can see that I won't be getting any significant insight from either of you, so I'm just going to go do this on my own."

Neither Sam nor Dean made any further comments. They ended up talking amongst themselves while leaving Chuck to mentally prepare for his demise by the hand of his own dirty little secret.

* * *

**2:27 PM**

Meanwhile, wrapped in a blue sea of bedding, Sarah slept in peace. Twisted sheets coiled around her slender form and only the oversized tee and panties separated her from total vulnerability. She breathed in the air almost effortlessly; the mustiness of the room was strangely welcoming. The corner of her lips curved upward and she dug deeper into the pillow, make believing it was a mess of curly brown hair rather than an unresponsive cushion.

As much as she wished she could continue on this way and just sleep in this perfect bliss, her unconscious state faltered and her breathing hitched. Her brows knitted together and the smile she had worn for the majority of the resting period vanished. Blue eyes cracked open and while still very blurry, she was met with beams of light that streamed into the room from between the blinded windows. They swathed her in the warm afternoon sun and a hearty yawn escaped from within her.

The silence and the stillness, broken only when an ominous sensation prickled her skin, caused her hairs to stand on end. The slow, lackadaisical rise into complete awareness was disrupted and Sarah shifted into spy-mode. Her mind alert, it fired impulses to every muscle in her body, signaling that someone else was in the room.

Fingers inched up her thigh in search for the stainless steel blade she had always clandestinely hidden. Sarah silently prayed it had not been removed, but when she touched the silver knife and felt its familiar coldness, her calm was restored.

So when her eyes had overcome the blinding sun, Sarah pushed her body upright. Prepared to defend herself from any offender, her breath quickened and all thought escaped her.

A pair of wide blue eyes greeted her with an eerie blank stare.

"Ah!" She yelped back in surprise.

Sarah's head slammed back against the headboard; her knees scrunched into her chest automatically when the dingy room shook and the lamp that was set upon the nightstand fell with a resounding_ crash_ to the floor. She looked around and saw that the knife was no longer in her possession, but lodged inside her intruder's chest.

Her breath was ragged. Blonde errant bangs fell over her eyes like a veil. It obstructed her vision in a way where she only just managed to see those two big blue doe-like eyes studying her like some kind of oddity. Cheeks flushed with a mix of humiliation and discomfort. She felt like those damn eyes were zeroing into her soul.

A small beat of time passed until the man in the trenchcoat realized what had happened. He took on a confused expression, his eyes growing even bigger than Sarah thought was possible. He blinked, pursed his lips while he studied her handy work. Not bothering to remove the blade, he fixed his gaze back to Sarah and gave her a look that was reminiscent of a wounded puppy.

"Why did you throw this at me?"

His gruff voice rumbled. The obvious hurt and bewilderment he strained in that one sentence caught Sarah off guard. It sounded so alien to her that it almost made her feel guilty. Almost.

She couldn't think of a suitable response. Instead, her mind kept scolding her for being so careless. _What if you had stabbed Chuck by mistake? You would've killed him! Stop being so impulsive and get your shit together. You're better than this, Walker._

It was unbearable; she could not bear to think about it, if Chuck was the one with the knife in his heart. There was no way to feel or examine the terrible hollowness that would be a direct result of his sure death. What a great handler she had been lately. First, she let Chuck ditch her and then she could've almost got him killed…

The sound of a knife being wrenched out of human flesh startled Sarah back to reality. She looked to the raven-haired man and saw that he was now holding the bloodstained knife by the hilt. He seemed to be uninjured; maybe only a twitch of annoyance was laced in his otherwise serene demeanor.

"You're alive…" Sarah heard her voice fade into the empty question.

The man nodded curtly.

"Angels are not harmed by simple weapons such as this," he said while indicating the knife.

Sarah almost overlooked what he had said, but as he removed himself off the bed (and out of her personal space) the mentioning of "angel," caused her to do a double take.

She asked, "What did you say?"

The man turned his back on her and gravitated towards the window. He peaked through the blinds before heaving a sigh and whirling around to meet Sarah's confused expression.

He tilted his head slightly and answered, "I am an angel. Did you only figure this out now?"

His tone was brutally honest but the words that spilled from his mouth came off as condescending. Sarah narrowed her eyes, face masked with disbelief.

"Angels aren't real," she stated.

"You sound just like Dean Winchester," he replied in a huff. "Rather than a hallucination like you probably are convinced is what I am, he was certain I was some kind of demonic being."

Sarah could not speak. This man was confident in his claims of being an actual angel. The more she questioned his confession, the longer her gaze lingered on the crimson blade that should've ended his life. There was something freaky about this guy, but he couldn't be an angel. They did not exist. And even if they did, to say it aloud would be to make it final, absolute, irretrievable.

It would be crazy.

But something tugged in the back of her mind, telling that it was possible. There were stranger things happening to her and angels existing wouldn't be too out of the ordinary. After all, fragmented memories from the night before still swam in her min. The thoughts included the existence of demons and the possibility that she had died. It could be true.

But she ignored all of it.

"Why have you been following me?" She changed the subject. "Is there something you want?"

He merely blinked again. Sarah wondered if he had once suffered head trauma as a child. It sure would explain a lot about his odd behavior.

"No, I am only doing a favor."

She pressed, "For whom?"

He gave her an innocent look, and right before her very eyes, Sarah watched the self-proclaimed angel suddenly disappear in a whirlwind of color and the sound of flapping wings.

Left alone once more and this time Sarah felt it. Her thoughts were muddled and fuzzy from the hectic experiences she had to endure. It made her feel weak and disorientated.

Not knowing what else to do, she leaned back into the comfort of the bed. Her head lolled in the pillows and she closed her eyes. She tried her best to collect her thoughts. The deeply repressed ones fought tirelessly for her to register them. Only a few of these choice words bobbed in the recess of her mind: car c_rash, demon, death, deal, angel, Chuck…_

Running her hand over her face, she heard the faint but distinct jingle reminding her of silver bells. An eye opened gingerly but soon expanded when it fell on the long-forgotten bracelet hanging from her wrist.

A tiny smile graced her lips. The sunlight from the window bounced its rays on the bracelet and it sparkled magnificently. Sarah exhaled in relief. At least one thing was going her way. Even if it did not make any sense because she swore she lost it in the car crash. Her wrist was bare since then, only the scar on the inside of her forearm remained.

Nevertheless, with all questions that clouded her mind, a large part of her knew who had returned this cherished piece of jewelry back to her. Her heart knew who it longed for, even before her mind could summon the broken image or name: Chuck, sitting beside her at the foot of the bed, eyes kind and reassuring, presence unwavering.

She curled on to her side and her eyes sought for him, expecting him to be there. She wanted to see that goofy lopsided smile cemented onto his face; his rich brown eyes warm and inviting and his aura infectious.

But he was not there. No one was beside herself. And Sarah felt more helpless than ever. She did not want to even consider the likelihood that he left again, that he abandoned her.

Her voice breaking, Sarah called into the empty room. "Chuck, where are you?"

* * *

**4:00 PM**

"Shit, that's a lot of loot we got here!" Dean chirped happily. He held a burlap sack over his shoulder. It was bulging out with over indulgences. "I feel like friggin Billy the Kid, right now."

Chuck smiled and shook his head at Dean's excitement. He too had a bag of goodies, which mainly consisted of rock salt, iron tools, food, oil, clothes, and most importantly, guns. It was heavy, and it felt as though it was going to drive him to the ground, but it was so, so worth it. If he was going to start hunting again, he needed to be prepared with the standard equipment.

"Dean, I find it really cute that you want to play cowboys and Indians, but we need to hightail back to the motel and get everything situated so we can leave on a moment's notice."

Dean scoffed. "Sammy, you're no fun at all."

"I can be fun Dean," he bit back. "We just need to concentrate on the object at hand. We'll play outlaws once the cops get on our tail for real."

Ahead of the both of them, Chuck heard the brothers bickering back and forth. He was hiding a smile from stretching across his lips. He missed this sometimes, the sibling rivalry. But you'd replace Dean with Ellie and Sam with himself. And then throw their father in the mix and it was a standard Bartowski family outing.

"So when we're driving the Impala on some super intense car chase, I'm Louise and your Thelma, Sam."

"I thought you said you never watched a chick-flick movie, Dean?"

"Thelma and Louise was not a chick-flick! Are you insane?"

"They were two women who happened to be outlaws that relied on each other because they were best friends. I'd say so."

Chuck kept on walking. He was barely listening to the squabbling now.

"But—but, they drove off a fucking cliff! That's bad ass! That was so not a chick-flick moment."

"They were holding hands, Dean, and crying. Do you want to hold my hand when we drive ourselves off a cliff?"

There was a small pause. Chuck felt himself come to a halt and turn around. Dean was staring at Sam with a disgusted look on his face.

"Dude, that's so gay." He shuddered. "Ugh. Never mind. Let's just get back to the motel and get the hell out of dodge."

"Jerk," Sam said under his breath.

Dean marched passed Chuck and when they assumed he was out of ear shot. Dean shouted, "Bitch!"

From then on, the three of them were left to their thoughts until they returned to the parking lot.

Chuck bent over and dropped the heavy bag to the ground. He groaned.

"A back massage sounds awesome right about now," he muttered.

Dean and Sam set their bags down beside him. The older brother smirked.

"Why don't you go up to your room and ask Sarah to give you one?" He winked. "Who knows? You might get lucky and it'll turn to a full body massage…if you know what I'm saying."

Sam pretended to not hear Dean's perverse comment. Chuck, on the other hand, scowled at him.

"I know what you're saying, Dean. But I really, really don't like what you're saying," he added after a pause, "…if you know what I'm saying."

He left it like that. Dean had no time to retort because Castiel materialized out of nowhere and it elicited a girlish scream from Chuck. Sam raised an amused eyebrow while Dean broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Day has been made," he exclaimed.

Castiel saw Chuck had collapsed to the ground. He frowned.

"What are you doing down there?"

Sam replied, "Never mind him Cas. What's up?"

Yeah," Dean said. "What—"

He saw that the angel was bleeding. "Dude, what happened to you?"

Chuck's ears perked up. He too, looked to Castiel. He saw the dried up blood and then laid eyes on the red encrusted stainless steel knife that was in the angel's grasp.

_No way, that can't be Sarah's…_

"Sarah is awake," the angel announced dryly.

_I forgot to check for hidden weapons,_ Chuck mused. _I knew I missed something…_

It took a moment for Sam and Dean to understand how Castiel's near death experience and Chuck's girlfriend was related. But after glancing at Chuck, Sam saw his mouth twitching in slight nervousness. He made the connection soon thereafter.

"Whoa…." Dean breathed.

And before there was any chance stopping him; Chuck was up standing, sprinting into the motel lobby as fast as his feet would take him. Sam watched as his friend's body disappeared behind the sliding glass doors.

"Good luck, he shouted.

But Chuck was already too far away to hear him.

Dean saw the concern in his brother's eyes.

He joked. "I'm not even kidding, Sam. I swear that girl is some sort of highly trained assassin."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Possibly a ninja," he guessed.

Sam shook his head, "No. She might be a Fed though."

Dean frowned. "Ya think so?"

Castiel remained tightlipped throughout the entire conversation.

"How else could she have found Chuck so fast?"

"Google Earth?"

"Nice try, Dean. She knew we were fugitives. Care to explain that?"

"Shit. What is Chuck dating a cop for?" He questioned, perplexed. "That's risky business. And I don't care how smokin' hot she is either."

Sam nodded absentmindedly.

"Sam. What are we going to do if she really is some sort of cop?" his brother asked worriedly.

"Nothing," he said.

Dean deadpanned, "Nothing. Great."

"Chuck can handle it."

"I agree," Cas interposed thoughtfully.

"I bet he could," The older Winchester raised his eyebrows suggestively. "I got to give the man props on that. For awhile, I thought he was still a virgin."

Sam looked at him with exasperation. "I'm gonna call Bobby and see how far away he is. Dean, you go start packing. If Chuck isn't done spilling his guts by sundown, we manhandle him. Got it?"

"The new and improved assertive Sammy: Love it."

Shooting one of his glares specially reserved just for Dean, Sam headed back to the Impala. Already he knew this day was going to get really interesting very soon.

He just hoped the interesting part was that Chuck's "girlfriend" wasn't going to turn out to be some sort of superspy. He snickered. Yeah, like that would ever happen. His breath stilled.

Would it?

* * *

End chapter 8

Next Chapter: 9--_Talk to her_

**An:** Hope that answered a few questions and brought up even more! Next chapter is the long awaited but not forgotten talk. Yay!

**PS, major note:** This is the only interactive aspect i'm gonna do for the series. In the very near future (as in ch 1 of part II) Chuck and Sarah are going to be playing **20 Questions** with each other. Actually, it'll mostly be Sarah asking Chuck stuff about his past and random questions about the Supernatural in general. And since not much will be completely addressed in their "Talk," I want the readers to compile a list of questions you want me to include in the chapter. **So when you review, please participate in this**! You can ask as many as you want; I'll try to narrow them down to the best 20. Have fun with this, I can give some pretty creative answers.


	9. Right or Wrong

An: Hello loyal readers! I'm sorry this took awhile, and believe me, it's been a long time coming. Here's the the Talk. Let us pray it will be glorious. Thanks to my beta, ersk4 as always.

Make sure to review por favor.

* * *

**Chapter 9— Right or Wrong**

_"Yes I'm scared.  
And all the bad things that I've done  
And this world I'm bringing you into  
I hope I'm the one.  
Now I may not have lived my life to show you what's wrong and right.  
All I want to show you that life can be all_

_Right or wrong I'll get it right this time.  
All along you'll know that you are mine."-Rght or Wrong, Rains_

**~*~*~*~*~*~~**

_She feels like she's floating._

_Floating in a colorless sea; her arms stretch outward as if they are being lifted by floss-like string while her white dress swirls and dances in suspension. Long golden strands of hair hover above her head like a halo. She keeps her eyes parted slightly because the sweet silence of nothing makes her weak and drowsy. Her body feels dead but her mind is aware and certainly alive._

_She feels, hears, smells, tastes, and sees nothing. And yet she functions all the same. _

_The gifts her Maker has given her are useless here. She is drowning in this void, gasping for air that she does not need. She is imprisoned in a limbo but her state of being does not let her acknowledge this._

_She does not know who she is, or was. She is no one._

_And while she fights for recognition, or some strange semblance of what it might be, she is overcome with an unidentifiable sensation. A presence of another that is quickly approaching._

_Her sapphire eyes, once subdued, shimmer with life. They flutter and gravitate towards the direction of this strange, captivating sensation. _

_An aura of gold radiates throughout the empty space. Her pupils grow and are sensitive to the concept of light. It warms her skin and she can feel each appendage unhinge from its numbing trance and move upon its own accord. _

_The light grows into an ethereal radiance like no other. She is blinded by its sheer brilliance. Shielding her eyes from the glow, she hears a melodious voice call to her. _

"_Sarah, take my hand."_

_She dips her hand just enough to see beyond the glaring illumination. Two multihued eyes look at her in admiration. The outer ring of the eyes are a caramel-esque shade, the irises are flaxen and awash with a divine power and all-knowing wisdom. _

_Even though this celestial figure portrays itself as something to be feared, she feels the opposite. Her heart learns to beat again and she forces a hand outward, resisting the invisible strings' bind. She reaches for the being._

_She swipes for its olive-toned hand that is just out of range. Disappointment settles on her face; she wants to feel its endless warmth. She wants freedom._

"_Please, stay." Her voice sounds unlike anything she has ever heard before._

_Suddenly, the golden aura dissipates. The balance of perfect nothingness is gone and she is now unnaturally cold. She shivers as every inch of her body feels like it's entombed in a prison of ice. _

"_I cannot stay," the otherworldly, male voice announces. "And neither can you."_

_Finally, he offers her a hand. His palm faces upward and is inviting. Her eyes linger on his hand before leveling out to determine its owner's identity. _

_She meets his gaze once more and is lost. His lips are curved upward into a gentle smile that betrays the utmost kindness. Symbols from an ancient era mark his angelic face and dark brown curls fall on his forehead, shrouding the rest of him in mystery. _

_Uncertain, she timidly asks, "Where are we going?" _

_The small twitch of his lips spread into a grin. He is strikingly beautiful, the most beautiful thing she has ever encountered. _

"_You are going back where you rightfully belong."_

"_I do not know where that is," she replies honestly._

_He glides toward her. Taller than she is, he stands strong and erect but bows his head to meet her confused eyes. He says in a whisper._

"_It is where you are loved. It is where you are sorely needed."_

_When she allows these cryptic words to seep in, his hand claps onto hers. He squeezes tight and a deep burn sears her skin. She cries out in anguish. The being's words echo throughout the boundaries as she falls further and further into a swirl of color. _

"_Stay by his side, through thick and thin. Do not falter. If you surrender, so will he. And then the both of you will surely fall, as will everything else…."_

The fair-headed blonde snapped awake, grasping at thin air like she was trying to find leverage on a cliff, sure that in that moment she'd continue to fall deeper into the abyss.

Instead a pillow, heated by the glister of the afternoon sun on the individual charms of her bracelet, slipped from beneath her head and fell off the edge of the mattress.

Sarah sat up.

Her wrist throbbed wretchedly, endlessly. Her head did the same. The touch of a ghostly hand continued to insist that it was there. The shirt too large for her frame was damp with sweat; her bare skin gleamed with a sheath of water droplets. She had pieces of hair stuck to her forehead, and she panted wildly.

_Why are you burning? _she asked the scorching silver band. _There is nobody here but me; it was just a dream. Go away. _

It helped a little. Not much, but a little. What she had witnessed was a dream, all right, but a lively and eerily realistic dream. It felt more like reliving a memory rather than her mind playing tricks on her.

Sarah raised a hand and placed it on her forehead. The bracelet jingled accordingly while the heel of her palm applied pressure to the temple. She needed to clear her mind. There was much which clouded it, though; it would take all her tenacity to navigate past the fog.

If she wanted to keep her sanity intact, it needed to be done.

She rested her back against the cracked headboard and looked about. The motel room was now drenched in shadows. Through the window pane, she noticed that the sun was lower since the last time she looked at it. It was sinking into the earth and the rays were a mix of yellow and orange. The temperature had cooled down significantly and Sarah rubbed her arms.

After a pause, she removed her eyes from the window and looked for a clock. She turned her head and lowered her gaze to find one sitting on the nightstand. It told her that it was just past four in the afternoon. For a long moment, she contemplated the time jump.

_I must've dozed off again,_ she rationalized. _After that man startled me…I was probably still too weak to stay awake. _

Her conscience was quick to correct: _The man was an angel, remember? _

Sarah was now staring thoughtfully at the bracelet. It did not cease aching. She ignored the voice in her head and settled for looking at the trinket for a long time, enrapt; _making _herself see it, see beyond its ordinary signficance. She temporarily forgot about her pain in wonder.

Then all thoughts sudenly shifted over to Chuck.

She clumsily steadied herself with a hand pressed on the mattress. With a sigh, her free hand skimmed over the spot on the bed where the pillow once was, but found that now a long sleek piece of metal took its place.

Hand freezing, fingertips grazed the cold slab and Sarah recognized just what it was. It was all too familiar for her.

A gun (a Beretta Model 92 pistol to be exact) rested snuggly on the surface of the bed. Sarah quickly removed the gun, checked the cartridge—_Loaded, great—_and found that thankfully, the safety was at least on.

"Who could be so paranoid that they'd sleep with a gun underneath their pillow?" she wondered aloud. _Besides myself of course._

Again, her conscience supplied the answer: _Its Chuck's room, so I'd venture to guess it belongs to Chuck. It seems that he's taking every measure to keep himself on the defensive 24/7. _

Sarah examined the weapon and frowned. "But Chuck hates guns. He can barely use one with tranq darts without flinching."

_He hates knives too, but you saw him cutting down those blac-eyed freaks and he seemed to be functioning pretty well with it. It's obvious he had been deceiving you. Probably for a long time methinks. _

Brushing off the harsh accusations, Sarah glanced over at the door and expected for it to open. She willed for it to. She wanted to see Chuck poke his head through and make her feel assured that he had not disappeared again.

It stayed firmly—almost mockingly—shut.

A dark thought popped in her head. _He lied to you, Sarah. Again. He promised—swore that he'd never ever leave you. And look at this! He's nowhere to be found. _

She argued. _Chuck keeps his promises. Everything he has ever done was in doing the right thing. I just have to have faith in that this is one of those instances._

Cold laughter echoed in the recesses of her mind. _Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that._

The combative voice left and once more, her head became quiet.

She bit her lip while sparing another worried look at the traitorous door.

Conflicted, she slipped out of the covers and left the comfort of the bed. Faintness stole over her. She fought it but her knees became jelly and she sat down, stupidly feeling lightheaded and disorientated.

_If I want to find Chuck and learn the truth, then I'm going to have to get up, _she told herself.

So she got back to her feet and balanced herself. Her bare feet curled on the gaudy red carpet and with new found determination, she made a beeline straight for the door.

Screw waiting. And screw Chuck. Sarah was done waiting for things to happen. She had to pursue it now. If Chuck wasn't going to hold his end of the promise then she was going to go after him. It would be the same game of cat and mouse all over again. But when she found him (and she would eventually) she was going to make him answer every single thing she asked. She wouldn't stop until each lie was accounted for.

At the door, Sarah studied the knob. She noted how old it was; it was tarnished green since it was made of copper as it rusted with age. She steeled herself and inhaled a deep breath.

This was it.

She grabbed the handle tightly, exhaled the air from her nose and then wrenched the door wide open.

To Sarah's amazement, rather than an empty hallway, she was greeted with a pair of wide brown eyes and a tired smile. With a bronze key point directly at her heart, she became suddenly rooted to the floor beneath her.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

She stared at him, gawking. Her heart was beating out of control, thumping so hard that she swore it was going to break out of her chest. Chuck watched this in amusement while he welcomed himself into his room and took a quick look around. He continued in the same causal tone.

"How did you sleep?"

Sarah wanted to say "Good," but the word was lost along the way. She ended up nodding instead.

He nodded in return. Entering further into the room, he tossed the key onto the table and shrugged off his worn-out jacket. With his back to Sarah, he slung it over a chair.

Chuck asked, "Is there anything you want? I can get you some food, or something to drink. We gathered enough to feed a whole town, literally." He did not wait for a response this time. Whirling around, he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel and added with a smirk as his eyes gauged her barely clothed body. "Or I could get you some clothes."

In spite of being in shock, she felt her cheeks redden at Chuck's assessment. Sarah started to say yes, and then hesitated. "As much as I would like to have all of those things, I would much rather prefer to stay here with you," she went on, "and talk about—_things_."

"All right," Chuck said, aloof. He sat down on the backwards facing chair; arms propped up his chin and he stared candidly at her. Sarah did not even sense a shadow of reluctance in his answer.

"All right then," she repeated indignantly. Her hand relinquished the doorknob and the door creaked shut. Wrapping her arms over her chest she declared, "You need to tell me what exactly is going on."

Rocking the legs of the chair back and forth, Chuck became suddenly more interested in the carpet than making eye contact. "I'll start by saying that I'm not going to say sorry for leaving you," he said. "As much as you think I should, I won't apologize for it." He glanced up at Sarah with his resolute gaze. "I had the right intentions in keeping you safe."

Sarah shook her head, looking troubled and a little bit peeved. "You drugged me. Took off without any clue to where you might've gone. I'm your handler, Chuck! I am supposed to be the one protecting you at all times. I can't do my job very effectively when you not only lie to me, but betray my trust and just fall off the face of the Earth."

Chuck was looking keenly at her, still with the same expression on his face. It showed no trace of regret for his actions, in fact it was blank. It told Sarah nothing and it greatly unsettled her.

"I said I wouldn't be sorry for leaving, but it doesn't mean I don't feel really guilty for hurting you in my absence, Sarah."

"To me it looks like you couldn't care either way."

"I care." He said this with an almost reverent look in his eye. "A lot actually."

"If you cared about me at all, I would be the one who knew what was really going on instead of Casey."

"The only reason Casey knows about why I left was—"

Sarah cut him off, "—to protect me. I get it!"

She huffed in agitation. Turning her back on him, she seized the doorknob. Her hand grabbed it with bared teeth.

"I was going to say that Casey found out about my plan on his own," Chuck stated unperturbed. "He did not like it, but figured it was inevitable. No matter how he felt, I was leaving regardless; so he supported me."

Sarah turned. He leaned the chair forward as he waited for the retaliation. She tugged again on the doorknob behind her back, but remained mindful of Chuck's scrutiny. He was watching her with an earnest appeal as she attempted to free herself from the closed-quarters.

He indicated the door. "Going somewhere?"

"I want to leave," she said. Her toes dug into the carpet.

"Sure," said Chuck simply. "Where should we go?"

For a few seconds they stared at each other.

"I want to leave," Sarah said again, "alone."

"Sure," Chuck repeated.

As she turned the knob, she listened to him continue. "But you won't get to listen to what I have to say. Plus, how far do you think you'll get anyway? The town's deserted, Sarah. Your car is demolished and there's no one out for miles. All that remains here is you, me, two fugitives and an angel."

Sarah wished desperately that Chuck had misspoken. He said angel. Dammit. The was the third time she had heard it: first from that pervert who watched her sleep, next it was her conscience and finally Chuck was spouting this nonsense. Possibly, it was a matter of repeating the same thing over again that would make her come to believe in its validity; like systematic desensitization. But instead, it only increased her incensed feelings.

"If you try to stop me—I swear Chuck, I'll arrest you and personally take the both of us back to Burbank. Then you can explain your actions to Beckman and the entire US government."

Chuck lifted his chin up from the chair, his poker face still intact. He merely smiled. Sarah thought he was now attempting at provoking some sort of reaction out of her. But she was good at this game. Being a spy taught her as much.

He dangled his arms over the chair, mimicking the gesture for Sarah to handcuff him. "Do it then. Arrest me," he roused her. "I probably deserve it. We can go home; you'll get reassigned and I'll just sit in a bunker for the rest of my life. It's your choice, Sarah."

"My choice is to go outside and get some air," Sarah said, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Chuck's.

"You can get all the air you want later, but I really think you need to stay and hear me out."

"What is it, Chuck?" she asked, deflated.

"No more secrets," he said, no longer smiling.

Her fingers' grip on the door weakened as it drew closed. She stayed quiet, her voice shot with the sting of curiosity.

"I don't want to lie to you anymore," he continued on. "And after everything I've done, I owe you as much; maybe even more."

Chuck slinked out of the chair and straightened up to his feet. Gone were the playful looks and the maddening smile. He was ready to divulge to her all his secrets.

"I'll tell you everything. What I've been hiding from you since we met at the Buy More; why I ran off and what I was doing here. Because, Sarah, you're not nearly as pissed at me as you should be."

The spy inspected Chuck, who looked back at her seriously. "But I need you to promise me two things, OK? One: This stays between you and me. I don't want people figuring out about my extracurricular activities."

As he said this in a faraway voice, Sarah felt a light shiver trail up her spine. He sounded almost dreamy.

Chuck held up two fingers. "Two: Don't freak out."

_How can he possibly expect me not to freak out right now? He's making himself out to be some kind of murderous psycho! _Sarah thought, but kept her mouth shut and refrained from verbalizing it.

She nodded stiffly. "I promise I won't say a word. But I need you to tell me the honest-to-God truth, Chuck or I won't have a choice but to talk."

The froth in her tone made Chuck flinch; that was the first hit against his so called, "impenetrable armor" and it showed visible damage. He nodded anyway.

"I won't hold anything back then, Sarah." He resorted to calmness. "But I think you should take a seat, this will be a lot to take in."

Eyeing him wearily, she left the doorway and moved towards the bed. She took a seat at its edge, crossed her legs, and waited for Chuck to start.

"First off," he began. "The chances of you believing me are slim to none, so I'm going to outright plead temporary insanity."

Sarah arched an eyebrow. She said in blunt sarcasm, "You're off to a great start, Chuck."

"Yeah," he said apologetically. "It sounded a lot saner in my head…." He trailed off.

She did not bother to comment further. She saw the evident struggle wearing down his features. His eyes paltered back and forth in indecisiveness. He swayed on the balls of his feet for a brief moment before he came to an appropriate response.

"How much do you remember from the other night?"

Blinking once, she took on a contemplative expression. "Not much," she muttered. It wasn't a lie. "It's mostly just bits and pieces, why?"

"Can you get more specific?" Chuck pressed with a hushed voice. "Was there anything out of the ordinary that you could recall?"

Just the utterance alone caused Sarah to falter. If only slightly. Chuck seemed to have caught wind of it and his smile was short-lived. He remained silent, a look of upmost concentration directed to her.

"I don't know why this matters," Sarah expressed sourly. "There was just a car crash, all right? A man helped me escape….

_He had these terrible sick pale eyes. They weren't human, he was not human._

"…I forgot most of what happened after," her voice softened. "All I can account for was that I know for sure you and the two fugitive brothers were there."

_Also, that demonic thing dressed like a man threw me around like a ragdoll. He choked the life out of me and used my own knife to carve into my skin. I was dying, but you were there Chuck. And that's all I can remember: dying and then just…floating._

Chuck's irked voice brought her back to the then and now. "Those 'fugitives' you're talking about are my friends. They also are partly responsible for saving your life. One of the reasons I left in the first place was because they needed my help."

"What sort of help?"

_Don't say you were an accomplice to their schemes._

He sighed deeply. "They needed help on a hunt."

Sarah let the words wash over her. She did not understand. A hunt? Chuck couldn't have insinuated that he and his buddies traveled to the Midwest just to hunt some game.

"I did not know you hunted, Chuck. What were you after?"

"Big game," he said dryly, "Big, dangerous, scary game."

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the brief glint of a gun resting on the nightstand. She pointed to it and asked. "Why would you need a Beretta 92 then?"

"Huh?"

Wagging her finger for emphasis, she said. "The gun you kept underneath your pillow, Chuck. It has a pretty good kick, sure, but I don't think it's enough to take down something like a deer." Shrugging, she concluded. "However, it's the perfect gun to shoot a human being."

Chuck scoffed. "You think I'm going around killing people, don't you? I'm not some sociopath and this is definitely not The Most Dangerous Game."

"Then what is it?"

He shot her a dubious glare before staring up at the ceiling as if to say, 'Why are you doing this to me?' His eyes snapped back to Sarah and he sighed. "I go around the country hunting down demons and stop them before they hurt innocent people. It was--is my job and my life before the Intersect came along and changed everything."

Sarah tilted her head, "What?"

_Demons..._he said it, and so nonchalantly too. Just like hearing the existence of angels more than once, the likelihood of demons being real affected Sarah the same way. It began to make her question beyond what she perceived as normal.

He asked timidly, "Sarah: Do you believe in the supernatural?"

There it was: the bombshell.

Her gut said yes, but she lied to save face. "No. Of course not."

"You're just not going to make this any easier for me, are you?"

"I don't understand what you're getting at. Chuck."

He presed his lips together and searched her; massaging his temples with both thumbs.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm not making any sense." He dropped his hands and chewed on his lip. "I'll stop running in circles as long as you promise you'll listen with an open heart."

She nodded in agreement.

"Fine," he sucked in a tremendous breath of air. Breathing is out, he sighed. "Here it goes: I'm a hunter. It's not exactly what you're thinking—killing animals for sport, far from it actually. Instead of hunting down Bambie, I go and track down all the scariest things you can conjure up in your mind and kill them. Ghosts, evil spirits, vampires, werewolves, witches, and especially demons, you name it: they're as real as you and me. So hunters like me, my dad, Ellie, and the Winchesters—we make it our duty to find these things and stop them."

Sarah barely had time to register Chuck's almost incoherent ramblings. Before she knew it, he was already off on another tangent.

"Anyway, this brings me to my next point: the apocalypse—"

She mouthed the word slowly, making sure not to interrupt him in mid-sentence.

"You probably think I'm a lunatic, but just hear me out. You can admit that things have been getting a little weird lately. Take the weather for example: It's been unpredictable and just borderline improbable. Nod if you agree."

Nodding, she interjected. "Chuck, it can be explained by the Earth's—"

"—Sarah, it's not Global Warming."

"Right, because Armageddon is such a valid explanation."

"Don't shoot the messenger. You asked for this, now let me finish."

"Go on."

Chuck shunned her sarcastic remark. He resumed shortly thereafter. "My old family friends—Sam and Dean Winchester—they…ugh…to put it simply, 'accidently' freed Lucifer. Hell sort of followed once the portal was open. It basically sums up why the world is going to shit right now."

Images from a past nightmare flashed behind Sarah's eyes. It was her first vision, the one where the two men entered a rundown chapel and created a bloodbath out of it. She never quite understood what the large glowing white circle signified until now. It was the portal, the gateway that brought upon Hell on Earth.

It was hard to believe it was possible. That the supernatural was lurking everywhere. Sarah thought of herself as a realist. She only accepted things when their was concrete and substantial proof; like seeing it with her own two eyes. It must've had some connection with her lack of faith in much of anything whether it be humanity, religion, or whatever. But with the dreams, her bracelet, and now Chuck explaining to her first hand about this hidden world, Sarah started to consider its validity.

"Sarah, I explained gist of it. Can you try again and please tell me if you saw something—anything abnormal? Think hard."

For two years, Sarah had wondered what it felt like for Chuck to be enveloped in an Intersect's flash. Now she knew. The longer she thought about that night and what it entailed, the weaker her barriers became. They finally crumbled away and all the repressed memories surfaced into her consciously aware mind.

Blue eyes gradually widened when these broken images started to fit together piece by piece like a puzzle. Sarah's whole body shuddered habitually when she could recall the whole night, from the fog to the moment she woke up in the middle of a field, not knowing where she was or how she got there.

It all made sense now. Or most of it did at any rate. She still could not conceive how she had died and was able to live once again.

If anyone knew, it would be Chuck.

"Sarah?"

"Did I die, Chuck?"

At first he did not answer Sarah's question, and so she asked it again but her voice was raised an octave higher; her eyes unwavering, fixated on his. Chuck was standing at the foot of the bed, wringing his hands compulsively. It proved that the nerves were slowly breaking him down, further confirming the horrible truth. Sarah noticed, however, that the emotion she was searching for did not show on his composed, blank face.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Sarah was silent and dreadfully white. Unlike Chuck, her hands were motionless but her face betrayed her with the surfacing feelings of unease. She pulled her lingering gaze off from Chuck when she saw that his eyes were brimming with the unspoken answer. Instead, her sights dropped to her lap. Her bracelet no longer glimmered as it had done earlier. It was dead and quiet. It amplified the duress coursing within her like liquid fire.

Chuck finally responded. "Yes."

A few seconds passed before she lifted her head up. Now Chuck looked as tired as Sarah felt; his complexion was outlined in shadows from the partly closed blinds; eyes were soulful and his lips turned downward into a bleak expression. Right then, Sarah was sure that neither one of them was going to get much sleep this night. Distant, from outside the room, came the sound of a car's engine roaring and deep male laughter.

There was no laughter here. Sarah apparently_ had_ died, and Chuck's reason for leaving was to prevent it from happening. It became so obvious to her now.

"Chuck, tell me please: how did it happen? It was _him,_ wasn't it? The man with those sickly green eyes…the demon?"

The young hunter rubbed the back of his neck in a hesitant fashion.

"He couldn't be human," she continued softly. Her eyes flickered to Chuck but found he was just listening to her musings. "He told me he was going to kill you, make me watch."

Sarah saw his entire body stiffen. Chuck set his jaw and remained mute, but his caramel eyes were smoldering with pent up hatred. There was something terrible hiding beyond his steely gaze.

Resuming shortly, her voice went hollow. "I tried shooting him, but the bullets did nothing. I thought I was going to die, but then, you came back." Sarah looked at him for reassurance. "Chuck, you saved me…."

Chuck raised his hands. They were dirty, there was blood underneath the nails, and they trembled. "No, I didn't," he admitted, speaking in a voice, remorseful and lost, that Sarah had never heard before. "I couldn't save you in time, I'm so sorry."

"But I'm alive, how could I have I died?" Sarah asked, and then looked at Chuck questioningly. "It doesn't make any sense."

"You're right, it wouldn't make much sense," Chuck agreed. "But I brought you back to life." He paused. "I made a deal."

The mentioning of a deal caused Sarah's brows to narrow confusedly. It was one of those words that latched onto her brain, repeating itself without bearing meaning. It was the trigger word that released yet more of those buried memories she had forgotten from that previous night.

"What kind of deal was it?" she inquired. "I remember your friends discussing it. They were angry with your decision. Chuck, were you not supposed to do it? Tell me the truth."

She waited as Chuck considered. Sarah could see the conflict brewing deep within the depths of his eyes. It seemed like he was deciding how to explain it to her with minimal consequences. He took a deep breath, one that Sarah thought should not take that long, and then he leaned deferentially toward her.

He whispered like it was a secret between just the two of them. "I made a deal with a demon."

Sarah shot him a challenging look.

Elaborating, Chuck resumed just as softly as before. "There's lore stating that desperate people will travel to a crossroads. They'll bury a keepsake at the center of the road and it will summon a demon." He gently took Sarah's hand in his. His thumb traced over the charm bracelet. "I borrowed your bracelet to use in the ritual. I'm sorry if you thought you lost it.

"Anyway," he continued with a sigh. "This demon, they are unlike any other you'd usually come across. You encountered what a common demon looks like first hand: they are the ones with black eyes. They're boss—I'll get to him later— he had green eyes because of rank." A sardonic smile twitched on his lips. He stated plainly. "I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

Chuck shifted, and Sarah felt him get ready to lose his stability, perhaps even begin to crack. She settled a comforting hand on the curve of his neck, and Chuck subsided. For the time being, at least.

"You're OK," she soothed him. "Take your time." It amazed her how truly broken Chuck was. It was either the guilt of her death that was getting the best of him, or all the lies he had told that led up to her untimely (or fated?) demise. Nevertheless both attributed to what was ebbing away at his happy, normal self. Sarah wished that who she was staring at was not the real Chuck. He seemed to be so distant, so troubled.

Nodding, he continued robotically. "A crossroads demon is like a genie. They are allowed to grant you one wish, but in return, they get to keep your soul."

Her hand slipped down his exposed skin and she felt him shudder. She said perplexed, "Your soul? What does that mean?" Chuck couldn't possibly have actually gone and traded his soul for hers?

"When six weeks pass, and my time is up," he appeared haunted. "These things—hellhounds, will come after me and rip me apart. After I die, my soul is sent straight down to the pit, to Hell."

His voice dissolved in the stale silence of the room. The sounds of a lovely day still echoed in the distance. It was difficult for Sarah to take; God knew how it must make Chuck feel.

At last Sarah overcame the emotions threatening to consume her. She said unto Chuck, "Don't tell me you did it."

"I didn't," he revealed.

As he spoke, it gave Sarah the impression that Chuck did something much worse. She decided to interrogate him about it during a later date.

"You didn't?" Sarah muttered. Then louder: "_You didn't?_ What is that supposed to mean! I thought you said you made a deal—"

The hunter shook his head with a look that was almost in horror.

"—I _almost_ did it," he clarified. He stressed the "almost" so that it left Sarah breathless and terrified with how close she was to losing Chuck.

"What stopped you?"

"The thought that I could somehow save both your life and my soul," Chuck said, but Sarah's hand was still palming his neck, and she could feel him shaking.

"You found a loophole then." Sam Winchester's very same words rang in her head. "By killing the demon."

"The crossroads demon holds a person's contract after a deal becomes official. In a sense, they are just salesmen: selling human souls to the highest bidder. I had the deal finalized; it just needed to be sealed with a kiss. (Sarah's eyes widened.) In the end, I made it so she would hold up her end of the bargain and you would be revived. My end was still pending and once I killed her, I was allowed to keep my soul before it was bought-out by a more powerful demon."

Sarah studied Chuck for a long time. He placed his hand upon her hand that rested on his collarbone; squeezing it to relieve anxiety. She saw a calmness suddenly transpire and it eradicated the agony sprawled across Chuck's features. He was no longer tense. He took on an expectant look, like he wanted to see if she was going to buy in to what he said.

Not responding, she stared determinedly out of the window. She saw the sun peaking through as it was making its decent into the west. She denoted, "So, you are not going to Hell?"

Chuck was shaking his head slowly and with great certainty. "No, I'm staying right here." From the corner of her eye she could see a tentative lopsided smile begin to form on his lips.

Sarah nodded absently without looking from the window, which was now a hazy orange color. She pondered for how long she had been asleep for. The day was already winding down and she had not been awake for any of it. She pressed her lips together while her free hand clenched into a fist.

"Sarah?" Chuck's concerned voice broke the silence. "Are you OK?"

He leaned a little closer to her. His eyes watched her staring mesmerizingly at the sunset. Just as he became suspicious—and once he noticed her faraway look—Chuck was struck hard across the face and in the same spot where Sam had hit him the previous night.

Stunned, he lost his balance and tipped over until he collapsed onto the carpet floor. He rubbed his face in awe, his eyes wide as quarters. They looked up to see Sarah was now glowering at him. Her blue eyes crackling like electricity.

"You, insufferable," she shouted at him, "asshole!"

"Ouch," Chuck winced. He massaged his stinging cheek. "What the Hell?"

On her feet, Sarah seethed. "Don't you 'What the hell' me! You know exactly why I hit you!"

Chuck staggered to a standing position, his hand still holding the side of his face. His eyes were watering from the severity of the blow. He faltered, "I-I don't—"

Sarah cut him off, "—you knew this whole time that you were going to be all right, and yet you made me believe that you were actually sacrificing yourself to burn in Hell! I don't care that I died, and I don't even care that you are Van—Fucking—Helsing, Chuck!" Her anger simmered and then cooled down significantly. She said in a hurtful tone, "What I do care is that you tricked me, lied to me, about everything. I don't even know who you really are: how do you think I feel right now?"

Chuck looked at Sarah apologetically, and with some fear. Sarah was upset, and justifiably so. And she was a spy: a killer. A spy might lose their composure once in a blue moon, and when one did, it was never blindly. There was a reason for it. This fact had the guilt swelling in Chuck's chest like some hideous parasite; it writhed and squirmed. He had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely to be somebody—anybody else.

"I think you feel confused," Chuck said, low. He looked at Sarah with his big brown eyes. They were now bloodshot and dark with exhaustion, "And probably scared too, even if you're unwilling to admit it."

Sarah opened her mouth and Chuck raised a finger.

"Don't tell me that I don't know what you feel, Sarah. I think I have the general idea considering this same thing has pretty much happened to me."

Sarah closed her mouth.

Chuck took his hand off of his cheek, revealing a bruise just below his already shadowed eyelid. He combed his fingers through his hair, moving his curly bangs from obstructing his view of Sarah. "This whole time talking with you, I was not faking anything. I can't fake this. You don't know how difficult it is for me to come clean. What I've done…I can never go back and correct it. I got you killed. Your job as my handler is to protect me from the spy world—the Ring—but in my world, I've been trying to keep you alive. And I failed. How do you think I feel?"

Sarah contemplated this, her blue eyes stuck on Chuck. Obscured in the shadows that filtered through the blinds, he appeared ghostly. His shadow cascaded behind them on the wall and the way the sun shone on the surface, Sarah swore she could distinguish a pair of extravagant wings spreading from either side of Chuck's silhouette. They extended across the wall and in the blink of an eye, they disappeared.

"I don't know how you feel," Sarah said clearly. "But I could imagine it's the same way when I thought I lost you." Instinctively, she rubbed her wrist. The bracelet emitted a dull burn. "The desperation you feel, like you're weak and have been betrayed by something bigger than yourself. You question why someone you care about would leave so suddenly, without any goodbyes, not even a word, other than an empty promise that you are expected to believe."

Chuck looked shocked at this. He felt a deep urge to tell Sarah she must take it back, must unsay it.

"You really want to know why I didn't tell you about my life as a hunter." Chuck said dryly, startling Sarah with his change in tone. He did not let her answer. "Well, for one, would you have even believed me?"

Sarah shook her head reluctantly. Chuck could see her trying to accept what she couldn't change. Grasping for sanity.

"OK, so let me give you the low down on what happens when a hunter goes around exploiting the supernatural to the uninformed masses." Chuck drawled. "You either get a straightjacket or a punch to the face. In my case, it's the bunker or a bullet to the head." As an afterthought, he added, "Sometimes both."

Sarah spoke at long last, ogling the man that had consistently baffled her. "Chuck, you are scaring me."

"Yeah I know. Sorry about that."

As much as she wished she could, Sarah resisted the urge to smile. Her gaze was both forlorn and steady. "You really are scaring me though," she admitted.

She watched Chuck avert his eyes; he began to stare at the ground unblinkingly.

Continuing, softer, she spoke. "The longer I was chasing you and the more I learned about you, I was drawing to the wrong conclusions. I thought I was tracking down a criminal…because after all the things you've kept hidden from me, I felt like the man I wanted to find wasn't the man I had fallen in love with."

Her eyes grew glassy with unshed tears when Chuck broke his staring contest with the carpet and looked at her with the most heart-breaking expression she had ever seen. It was downright agonizing to bear witness to it.

"I would never do anything to hurt you," he swore to her, his voice cracking. "I did this—all of this for you. It was the very last thing on my mind to drag you into something so dangerous and so I tried with all my heart to keep you out of it."

A stray tear squeezed out of the corner of his eye. He was breaking right in front of her.

"But I couldn't, Sarah. I can't ever do anything right—being a hunter, spy, friend, brother, son— I keep failing at everything and no matter what I do, people get hurt. People die because of me—"

Sarah listened to him ramble, on the verge of hysterics. All of the strife he had endured since he had abandoned his home to fight a losing battle in an unwinnable war was tearing him apart. He was unraveling, coming undone. She couldn't watch him like this anymore, it was killing her.

Her face softened and she stroked his scruffy cheek, making sure not to touch his raw wound. She then leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss on Chuck's cut-up lips, quelling him of all his worry. She felt his chest contract, but as she nestled her face into the crook of his shoulder, he let himself succumb to her touch.

"—I didn't want you to die, Sarah."

Sarah heard the truth interwoven in his profession. From then on, she knew he would not lie to her. Murmuring, she said. "It's okay now. Chuck, everything's okay. I'm alive. You don't have to keep blaming yourself for something you couldn't control." Brushing his hair back, she pressed another short kiss on the nape of his neck. The muscles in his body grew firm and tightened up.

She pulled away and saw Chuck's sorrowful expression slowly recede. A weak smile formed on the corners of his lips and he brought his hand up to her face, caressing it softly.

"Have I ever told you how amazing you are?" he asked sincerely.

Snaking her arms around Chuck's neck, Sarah brought him into a much need embrace; for the both of them. She littered a few more fluttery kisses on his shoulder all the way up to where his collarbone and neck conjoined. It was all in a gesture of forgiveness.

"Constantly," was her muffled reply. Grinning against his skin, she pulled back. "And you're not so bad yourself."

He replied by flashing a million-watt smile. "Please, I'm fantastic."

Sarah replied honestly, "You are Chuck. You're more than fantastic you are—"

Cutting her off, he mumbled into her ear, breath hot. "—do you really want to push this? I mean like you said, you don't even know who I am. Wouldn't you rather get to know me first before saying things you might want to take back?"

"We will have plenty of time to get to know each other on the drive home, Chuck."

Chuck inhaled a breath of air while he warned her, "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Lifting her chin up from brushing her lips across his burning skin, Sarah met his gaze and quirked an eyebrow. "Whatever it is, I can handle it," she vowed.

"I know you can. I'm just saying."

"What are you saying?"

He remarked darkly. "When things start happening, bad things—think a hundred times worse than Fulcrum or the Ring combined—you're going to see a different side to me." His eyes overflowing in his own self-doubt, "And I'm not sure you're going to like who you see."

"So far all I see is Chuck Bartowski. Nothing is going to change that."

"Sarah, I—"

Sarah fisted Chuck's worn jacket and silenced him with a passionate kiss. The time for talk was long past. As both bodies pressed up together, two lips melded into one as their tongues danced and suppressed moans filled the room. Unbuttoning his flannel shirt, Chuck placed one fervent kiss on Sarah's forehead.

He then grabbed Sarah by the waist and let her fall gracefully onto the bed. She landed on her back; her nails were digging into Chuck's bare arm while he loomed above her, captivated by her beauty. He tilted his head to the side and smiled.

"What?" Sarah asked, interested with what he was currently thinking.

Chuck simply said, "You're so beautiful, Sarah. More beautiful than anything I had ever laid eyes on."

There was a light shining in his eyes as he said this. It made Sarah consider every creature Chuck had ever come across during his days as a hunter. He must have seen some unbelievably astonishing things, both good and evil. This had her yearning to obtain what Chuck was desperate to forsake: a life less ordinary, one that was unparallel to that of being in the world of espionage.

Smiling, she replied, "Even more beautiful than an angel?"

He nodded vigorously. "All of the angels in Heaven have nothing on you." And then he claimed Sarah's awaiting lips for another time. Lips rubbed against the other's in slow, sensual movements. Chuck pinned Sarah to the bed; he was worshipping her body with both hands while she gripped a handful of his mussed up hair and tugged gently.

Chuck let out a small chuckle but it came out as a hiss. "We're going to be so late."

Sarah had managed to yank Chuck's shirt off his shoulders and she questioned. "Late? For what?"

"Never mind," he shook his head. He growled decisively, "Sam and Dean will just have to get over it."

Smiling softly, Sarah lifted a finger up to Chuck's lips. She shushed him. His confused eyes fixed onto her half-hooded ones.

"No more, Chuck. You have a habit of talking _way_ too much."

"All right," he conceded. But first, he grinned. "However, I'd like to make a point by saying that we need to run away more often."

He was met with a playful jab at his ribcage, but he did not mind the minimal pain. Because as he looked into Sarah's blazing sapphire eyes, it was enough to make everything just background noise.

The apocalypse, Lucifer, the angels, his deal and anything else in between—it just faded away. As long as he could stare into those endless orbs of blue, Chuck assured himself that it was possible to achieve a real, happy ending in this unforgiving world.

Knowing this alone, well it was enough for him to survive through Hell itself.

* * *

End Chapter

Next, the Epilogue--Carry On Wayward Son

An: What did you think? Liked it? Loved it? Despised it? --Don't choose the latter response, it'll damage my self-esteem. So next chapter is the end of the first story. After that, the fun will really begin!

R&R please!!!


	10. Carry On Wayward Son

An: Hello readers! Guess what? This is the last chapter of part one of the Chuck/SPN crossover universe! Sad, but hey, it was a nice ride. It only gets better from here. So enjoy this!

Read and Review please!!

* * *

**Chapter 10-Epilouge, "Carry On Wayward Son."**

_"Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man  
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man  
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming  
I can hear them say_

_Carry on my wayward son  
They'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more," –Carry On Wayward Son, Kansas_

**_~*~*~*~*~*~~_**

Chuck woke hours later, naked and wrapped in the covers of the bed. A chink of what lay outside was visible between the half opened blinds: It was the violet almost black twilight that colored the sky, and everything was quiet expect for Sarah's slow, deep breathing. Chuck glanced at her sleeping form, marveling in her ability to look beautiful without even being conscious of it. His arms were fastened around her in a protective manner; he rested his chin in the crook of her shoulder. Inhaling her scent, he smiled and no longer felt the loneliness that had plagued him for most of his life.

As he remained in this embrace, Chuck let his eyes travel around the circumference of the room. He looked up at the shadowy ceiling, not really bothered that there were cobwebs hanging from the busted fan. Less than a week ago, he had been in the middle of a torrential storm, sitting cooped up in the Buy More as his life settled into a depression he couldn't shake. It seemed like a lifetime away. Now he was in the Midwest, in some dingy motel with hardly anything to his name. All except for the woman who loved him enough to travel to the ends of the earth and bring him back; she knew who he was—at least for the most part, and she cared for him all the same.

He wondered what was going to happen now. Staring fixed at the ceiling, he thought about the apocalypse, of the deal he made with that angel, of the impossible mission in actually killing the Devil…Lucifer…

The grief that had possessed him since Lucifer had risen from Hell felt different now. He still blamed himself for never really pushing himself to go out and find the Winchesters in their journey to prevent the 66 seals from breaking. Chuck stayed at home like the coward he was even though he knew he could've done something that might have saved Dean from Hell, stopped Sam from becoming addicted to demon blood, and thwarted Lilith in breaking the final seal…

Chuck thought of the angel again, scared of what Sarah might think when the time does finally come and his body becomes just a vessel—a tool for war. He was sure she'd be upset, frightened and a myriad of other emotions he really did not want to envision afflict her perfect face. He began to wonder what it would feel like to be possessed; would it hurt or just be uncomfortable? Sam had mentioned in passing that Castiel's vessel, a man named Jimmy Novak had compared it to being chained to a comet and flying into oblivion. Apprehension swelled in the darkness. It was a powerful description and Chuck feared for that to be his ultimate destiny.

Chuck could not stand lying there with nothing but thoughts of dread for company, especially since he was surrounded by his most trusted allies a guy could ask for and a goddess of a girlfriend. She was his girlfriend now, right? It wasn't a cover-relationship it was…

_Real…_

This comforted him immensely. Even though their time together would be limited by the war, and if he couldn't find the Colt, it could be enough to fulfill some sort of aspect of his life he had dreamed of realizing since the moment he set his eyes on Sarah.

He sighed and buried his head deeper into Sarah's neck; desperate for something to take his mind to his "happy place," he distracted himself by pressing closer to her body and placing a kiss on her bare skin. Her breath quickened while she slept and a small smile crept on her lips. She made a pleased noise that had Chuck sighing longingly for her to awaken.

_Sarah, I promise that I won't let anything hurt you. I'll protect you as long as I can before…_

It all comes crashing down.

The faint, but noticeable sound of a door creaking open and a voice yelling, "Guys! Are you still here?" Stopped Chuck from boring a hole in the back of Sarah's head. He blinked away the wetness from his eyes, getting reacquainted with reality.

Being addressed by the unsure—but distinctly male voice, Chuck had no doubt who had entered the room; nevertheless, he did not immediately respond. He was too drowsy, not to mention comfortable in the warmth of Sarah's presence to get up and berate his friend for disrupting such a tranquil moment.

It was until said "friend" (He used that term loosely at the present) shouted, "Chuck?" that he let out a deprecating groan and forcefully parted from Sarah. He slipped off the bed, picked up his discarded boxers and put them on, and then ambled clumsily out of the room. Almost tripping over his and Sarah's clothes on the floor, he whispered "Dammit" and then blindly pursued to the other end of the room.

A hand placed on the wall for support, he managed to navigate himself to the bathroom. Everything was still dark but he could make out the tall Sasquatch of a figure outlined in the shadows. Even with the absence of light, Chuck could easily tell that the younger man was pouting.

"What are you so pissed about," he spoke to the silhouette. "Don't tell me you lost Rock Paper Scissors to Dean. Isn't that how you go about solving problems or something?"

The larger figure's response consisted in flicking on the light switch, effectively blinding Chuck until he saw stars. He clasped his hands over his eyes and whined pitifully; his friend was chuckling, highly amused.

"Well you took your time," deadpanned Sam when Chuck blinked furiously as he adapted to the light. "I thought I was going to interrupt something between the two of you…that is if Sarah is—?"

"She's still here." He replied with a yawn. Rubbing his eyes, he added. "But she's asleep. So turn it down a notch, alright?"

Sam nodded. He strolled away from the closed door, his hands deep in his jean pockets. He gazed around the room, noting that the gaudy red carpet was all but covered by random pieces of clothing. "What have _you _been doing?"

"I'm sure you could piece it all together without my help, Sherlock."

"Ooh, you're grouchy."

"Says the person wearing the biggest bitch-face known to existence," Chuck retorted sharply.

Sam dropped the look Chuck was describing. "So how did the little conversation go?" He changed subjects quickly.

Chuck stood there, barefoot and shirtless with an incredulous look on his face. He chose not to answer the question as it was pretty clear (at least to him) of what ended up coming from his "talk" with Sarah.

"Dean and I had a bet going to see if you were going to be dead by the time either of us had to check in on you."

"And yet, here I am," he stated.

Green eyes became transfixed on Chuck. Sam grinned at pointed at his face.

"Where did that come from?"

Chuck touched his cheek, wincing slightly as though remembering what had caused the injury.

"Sarah, you know, she's a rough n' tumble kind of girl—"

"She hit you."

Scoffing at that obscene accusation, Chuck said defensively. "Pfft… yeah right. Why would she hit me? Sam, you need to stop with the persecutions, man. Just because you went to law school doesn't make you a lawyer…"

Sam watched his friend stumble over his words until it was painfully obvious to see that he was digging himself into a hole. He raised both eyebrows and placating him by nodding like he believed him.

"Right, there's no way she hit you, Chuck. I mean, she only stabbed Castiel with a knife she somehow had secretly stashed god knows where, not to mention had followed you here to the middle of no man's land—still haven't figured that part out." He finished nonchalantly, "I guess there can be no way in hell that she would use violence to punish you for leaving her. It would be preposterous—"

"Chuck? Chuck! _Chuck!"_

Sam promptly closed his mouth and watched as Chuck went pale and his eyes almost bulged out of his skull. While this reaction came off as extremely entertaining, Sam realized how seriously Chuck was affected by this woman.

"I'm here!" he called. "Sarah, I'm at the door!"

There was a stampede of footsteps obscured by the darkened end of the room, and Sarah burst in on Chuck and Sam.

"I woke up and didn't know where you were!" she said breathlessly. Her eyes were squinting from the brightness and she rubbed them in such a way that made Chuck smile goofily. Sam rolled his eyes, seeing his friend so lovesick was a sight for sure. It seemed that anything that Sarah would do came off an adorable or sexy; at least that's what Chuck told him and his brother before he met the blonde face to face.

Looking at her in the better lighting, he could see why Chuck was head over heels for this girl. She was breathtaking. She was in only her panties and a flannel shirt that was buttoned up two out of the five notches. Sam tried with all his might not to gawk at her, he really did. He had to admit; it made him yearn for a better time. One where he was at Stanford with Chuck, living a normal life and in a relationship with the girl of his dreams.

He really missed Jessica, more recently than ever before it seemed.

"It's ok, Sarah. I'm here, I was talking to Sam." Chuck explained. Sam was freed from his trance at the sound of his name. "You two have met before right?"

She looked at Sam unblinkingly. Feeling like an ant beneath a magnifying glass, he cleared his throat and separated his gaze from her piercing blue eyes. His cheeks began to burn when he looked away. Sarah realized that she was wearing hardly anything at all, blushed and averted her eyes also. Chuck watched this unfold by scratching the side of his bearded face in complete obliviousness.

"Oh." She whispered. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

"Well then," said Chuck, happy to begin introductions. "Sarah, this is one of my very best friends, Sam Winchester. He hunts down monsters all over the country with his brother, remember?"

"I vaguely remember that," her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Chuck ignored it. "And Sam, this is my girlfriend, Sarah Walker. She's currently working at a frozen yogurt shop and hates olives. Right, sweetie?"

"Yes _sweetie_."

Sam noticed that she did not like being put on the spot; when it concerned her personal life or lack thereof. She was very uncomfortable with the entire exchange.

"Uh, well hi…Sarah." He made an effort by waving his hand and delivering an awkward smile.

She said politely, "Nice to meet you, Sam."

Chuck threw an arm around Sarah and Sam's shoulders and pulled them in for a group hug. Both parties resisted until Chuck made it near impossible to move.

"See, this is great. Now we're all friends." He said more to Sarah, "You know we wouldn't be able to do this with Casey."

"Casey?" Sam asked, interested. "Sarah knows him? That's a coincidence, does she also know that he's—"

"—yep," he cut the Winchester off. "She knows that he knew about me this whole time."

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. Chuck shot him a very stern glare before it all clicked. He nodded and played along.

"Ah, that John Casey." He feigned a chuckle for good measure, "What a good guy."

"Uh huh," Chuck agreed.

Sarah, not convinced by the lackluster excuse of lie, pursed her lips. She picked Chuck's arm off her and dropped it before turning to face him. Her expression was skeptical. She pointed to him.

"We're having a long talk on the way home," she forewarned. Looking to Sam, she said, "And while it was a pleasure meeting you—and it has been, I'd greatly appreciate it if you would give me and Chuck some privacy. We need to get dressed after all."

Sam replied, "Sure. How rude of me," He gave Chuck one last apologetic glance before backing slowly to the door. "I am sorry for intruding on the both of you." He wrenched open the door and bowed his head. "Just be sure to get outside ASAP because Bobby is going to be here any minute—"

A car horn honked in the distance. Sam swore he heard a gruff voice shout, "Idjit!" Well, that was his cue.

"—you can go now, Sam," said Sarah kindly.

Without another word, Sam was out of the room, the door slamming shut. Everything got suspiciously quieter after the hunter's departure and Chuck rocked on his heels, now wanting to get dressed and get outside where they would be in plain sight with a lot of witnesses.

"How did he get in our room?" Sarah spoke up after the long pause.

"He had a key."

"Why?"

"For emergencies," he said sheepishly. "Like for example: say if a band of demons suddenly came searching for me and I was in a coma and—"

Sarah held up a hand. "I get it."

He went mute.

There was a little too much amusement in the smile Sarah gave him for Chuck's liking. He had just begun to feel the night chill blow in the room and as he shivered, he felt the need to reclaim his clothes.

"So who's this Bobby person?" inquired Sarah. "Is he another hunter like Sam?"

"Yeah, he's a hunter." Chuck said; he focused on gathering his clothes lost from their heated encounter hours earlier. "Was one of my Dad's friends, a great hunter, at least until..." He reached for his jeans and then straightened up to meet Sarah's curious stare. "He had a really bad accident a few months ago. He became paralyzed from the waist down because of it."

"That's horrible, But couldn't that angel—the one with the trenchcoat, have healed him? He can do that, right?"

"Castiel lost a lot of his angel mojo the moment he sided with Sam and Dean and not Heaven."Chuck explained. "To them, he's just as much of an enemy as Lucifer is. They took away his ability to heal which is why Bobby is unable to walk."

He looked away and picked up his shoes, trying not to betray the resentment he felt. There it was again: the feeling of standing alone, to face the world. He wanted to be hopeful for the future. Why was it so hard to convince himself that this war would have a happy ending?

"Should we get ready to meet Sam?" Sarah suggested after a little pause. "I don't want to waste anymore time here."

He agreed, but silently, and followed her lead in getting dressed. She was taking off the flannel, concentrating hard on each individual button as she undid them. He watched this while zipping up his jeans, a fond smile on his lips. A warm feeling trickled through Chuck, but he was not immediately sure why. He looked at Sarah again. She was already peeling off the flannel, exposing her toned stomach and as well as her breasts.

"Sarah," he said, and he was surprised that his voice was so calm. "I never got to tell you how happy I am that you're actually here. We kind of got sort of…sidetracked."

"I'd say so."

"And since we did get preoccupied, I did not have the chance to say that I love you. I know you don't have to feel the same way about me and it's totally alright. It's just that I don't want anything to happen to you because you're all that I have left. Honestly, the only thing that gives me hope that there can be an end to the apocalypse is you. If you stayed dead, well, there wouldn't be much for me to fight for…"

There was a quick intake of breath, and then Sarah froze. Her entire upper body was exposed and vulnerable. Eyeballing her reaction, Chuck was unsure how to continue on. She looked to be in shock which caused him to be confused.

"Do you really mean that? You don't have to lie—"

Chuck nodded, talking a step closer to her. She read him once over and then allowed a smile to light up her face once she saw no trace of hesitance in his warm, liquid brown eyes. Only undying love and acceptance mingled through the irises.

"I-I don't know what to say, Chuck." She whispered.

"You don't have to say anything really," said Chuck. "I don't need any confirmation, I told you that already. I'm cool with whatever we have, if its love or just a really intimate friendship—"

"No!" interrupted Sarah. "I hate when you do this to me. Just because I can't verbalize how I feel, you assume that I don't share the same mutual feelings? Are you that insecure, Chuck?"

She had not realized that she was holding Chuck's arm so tightly that he winced. She released him, kept the same close proximity, and said. "Chuck. I want you to listen to me, and please don't interrupt."

Chuck said nothing.

"I love you," she went on. "I love you more than I thought I was able to. So don't get it in your mind that we are just friends, because we're not. We're so much more than that. After all the trouble I went through in finding you—dying even, I would think that we would have settled in the fact that I'd do absolutely anything for you, Chuck. As a partner, a friend, and a…"

Chuck closed the space between them and Sarah lost her train of thought as soon as his bare skin touched hers. She heaved a laboring breath and tried to keep it cool. In the dim light of the room, shadows continued to dance on the walls; indistinguishable shapes twisted and paraded while a fire pulsed from her body to Chuck's. She met his gaze and saw that his eyes were ablaze, shining brighter than she had ever seen before; like they were glossed over with sheen of gold.

Chuck covered her hand with his and squeezed it.

"I'm glad I decided to keep my mouth shut for once." He joked.

His tone was warm and subduing. The humor lingered but was underlined with the relief of finding out that his feelings were being reciprocated.

She said flirtatiously, "I don't always object to it, though."

Chuck gave a shaky laugh.

"Uh, I think we should err, get dressed."

Sarah eyed him carefully, watching the strange luster in his eye recede. His body cooled down and was no longer burning. He looked confused with a mix of nervousness worn on his face. Crestfallen, she pulled away and held out his flannel.

"You might need this," she suggested quietly.

Muttering a "thanks", he took the shirt and shrugged it on. Popping the collars out, he buttoned up the shirt and watched as Sarah meandered around the room in only her lacey panties to keep her covered. She bent over to get the bra that had been stripped from her; Chuck inhaled sharply.

"While you were asleep, I went to town and bought—well, stole some clothes for you." He explained shortly after she pulled the bra straps up on either of her shoulders. "I didn't think you wanted to go back home in the clothes you came in…they were pretty bloody."

She nodded.

He pointed to the large dresser, "They're in the second drawer down."

Without a sound, she walked over to the dresser and slid the aforementioned drawer open. Chuck ruffled his hair while she grabbed a shirt and pair of jeans. She sat on the edge of the bed and proceeded to get dressed.

"Why after we confess our love for each other, are we still the most awkward couple to exist ever?"

Pulling the shirt over her head, Sarah guffawed. "It could have something to do with our lack of communication. But it's just a guess."

Chuck inclined his head and chuckled in agreement. He came toward the bed and settled down beside Sarah. He began tying up his shoes while she slid into her new jeans. Neither met the other's glances.

"We will have a few days on the road to figure out the whole communication aspect of our…relationship." He spoke offhandedly. "The real test of course will come the next time we have to solve a case."

"We are hunting?" Sarah asked. "As in I'm going to be hunting—?"

"With me," he completed for her, "Yeah. That's if you want to…"

Aware that Sarah was now staring at him, Chuck felt weak at the knees, not sure if she was accepting her role as his partner or ridiculing him.

It surprised him when her lips curved into a beaming smile.

"I can't wait!"

"Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She retorted indignantly. "It sounds like a thrilling experience."

They looked at each other: Chuck knew that Sarah was completely serious in her admission. She even seemed to be eager by the sound of it. She thought she was ready. She had actually _died_ and she still was confident. To his relief, he remembered something that he had forgotten to mention.

"You'll see how thrilling it is," he said and gave up on the discussion. Then he continued before she could retort. "Before we leave, I need to give you something."

He reached into his pocket and presented Sarah with leather made necklace, a strange pendant hung from the end. He dropped it in her open palm and sighed.

"What's this for?" She asked confusedly.

"You know the tattoo I have?"

"Yes."

"It protects me from demon possession," he informed. "Not having one makes you extremely vulnerable. If you want to hunt, you need this."

She stared at the pendant: it had intricate symbols carved into the stone. It reminded her of the ancient jewelry found in the Mayan temples. Wordlessly, she put it around her neck.

"Wear it all times, Sarah." Chuck instructed. His eyes were hard and protective. "I don't want to see it off until you get something more permanent. The last thing I want is for you is to be some demon's meat-suit."

A shiver traveled up Sarah's back. The thought of being possessed entered her mind.

"You've never been possessed before, have you Chuck?"

Unwaveringly, he responded, "No. But I've heard what it's like. I've seen it."

Chuck glanced out of window and saw the moon peaking behind the cloudy sky. Sarah saw she had struck some sort of nerve and let the topic die.

"Chuck. We should go now. It's getting really late."

"Right," he conceded. He took his eyes off the moon and faced her. He was smiling tiredly. "We have a long trip home."

* * *

"What is taking them so long?!"

"I don't know. Maybe they're just getting dressed?"

"Ha, I'm calling bullshit. They're probably going for round two!"

"Shut up, Boy." Bobby said gruffly.

Aimed at Dean, the elder hunter shot him a no-nonsense glare. The two brothers stopped their banter and went quiet. Castiel watched this nonplussed. His blue eyes blinked slowly. He found it to be amusing how the siblings would respond to Bobby as though he was their surrogate father. In a way, he was.

"Right then," said Bobby, checking his watch. "It's almost nine, we need to get a move on or else things are gonna go downhill real fast."

"Oh so you're allowed to bitch about Chuck and his girlfriend getting naughty, but I can't?" Dean huffed. "How's that fair?"

"Dean—c'mon, don't start this." Sam butted in. "It's late. We are all tired. Give it a break."

Bobby waved the youngest hunter dismissively. "Don't mind him, Sam. If you let him run his mouth, he'll be sleeping like a baby by the time we leave this god-forsaken place."

Dean laughed sarcastically.

Bobby ignored him. "So, who's this girl you're brother won't stop talking about?" He looked at Sam interestedly. "She's not another Bela, is she?"

"No, I don't think so." Sam replied. "She's Chuck's girlfriend, that's all we know so far."

"—and she knows her way around knives." Dean interjected. He jabbed at finger at the angel. "She's quick. Caught Cas off guard and tossed a knife at him; hit him dead center."

Bobby considered this information. Dean and Sam looked on apprehensive for a response.

"So you're sure she ain't a hunter?"He asked.

Sam nodded. "Yep, and she's not a demon, angel, vampire, or werewolf either."

"We already tested to make sure she wasn't," his brother added with a reminiscent smile.

"Huh, that's odd. Maybe she's a fed."

"Why does everyone think that's the case?" Sam said exasperatedly.

"Because she's sexy, deadly, and hanging around the nerdiest hunter in North America. If that does not scream she's some type of spy or whatever, I don't know what does!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You watch too much TV, Dean."

"Hey, Sydney Bristow was foxy as hell!"

"I believe Chuck knows the truth. We should ask him to tell us the answer so that our speculations will be put to rest," voiced Castiel.

Bobby said, mystified at the angel's statement. "That was the single most intelligent thing I've heard since I've got here."

"That's not saying much," a familiar voice commented amusedly.

Turning his wheelchair around, the old man was greeted with two new arrivals. Like a carbon copy of his father, Chuck Bartowski was walking hand-in-hand with a woman Bobby assumed to be his girlfriend. His untamed hair blew in the warm summer wind and he smiled lopsidedly as the couple approached him.

Well, they looked happy.

"Boy, nice to see you again." He spoke fondly of Steve's youngest kid. He hadn't seen him since a few months after his Dad left him. Already, he noticed how much the boy matured. He was standing up tall, confident, just like he should be.

"Hey, Bobby," Chuck offered him a hand. "I'm glad you could make it."

They shook hands and then Chuck introduced him to the blonde female. She was looking at him shyly which made Bobby rethink the possibility that there was something more to her than meets the eye.

"This is Sarah," he began. "She's my girlfriend from back home."

Bobby said pleasantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarah. I'm glad through all of this you've stuck by Chuck's side. He needs someone like you to keep his brain in check."

Sarah blushed at the onslaught of compliments, not really expecting it. Chuck caught a quick glance of this and quirked a small grin.

He resumed, "And this is Bobby Singer: hunter extraordinaire."

"Nice to meet you," Sarah said cordially.

Bobby nodded.

"I know that the meet and greet is super important and everything, but can we please speed this up a little bit? This place is freaking me out. I haven't seen one single tumbleweed since we've got here."

"You're right, Dean. Since the world revolves around you, we will do whatever you say."

"As you should," he said to his brother; lost to the sarcastic remark.

Chuck's eyes widened when he remembered. "Dean's actually right." He got weird looks from everyone save for Sarah. "I know, strange. But anyway, we should leave. Like pronto. I need to get home or else there will be some serious complications."

The hunters all agreed silently. Sarah looked at them, confused.

"How do we get home?" She said quizzically. "The Porsche is wrecked. I doubt the either of you want to take us all the way back to California…"

"It's fine. Bartowski has his own ride." Bobby explained airily.

Sarah frowned. She did not know this. She turned to Chuck, who seemed just as confused as she was. Then there was a transformation occurring on his face; he went from unsure to ecstatic in the matter of seconds.

"That's the surprise?" He choked out. "A car, really?"

"Yeah, I had to lug that stupid thing all the way from South Dakota so you better be happy about this."

Chuck was more than happy. Hell, he was bouncing on his feet. A car. He was going to have his own car.

Dean put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Now you know how I feel. Join the club, dude."

"I doubt I'm going to commit adultery with an inanimate object, Dean."

Sarah watched the exchange with growing happiness. Her love for Chuck expanded while he began to shed some light on who he really was, not who he appeared to be. The way he interacted with the brothers, and even Bobby, it was like they were family. She wanted to know what that was like. She wished for a bond that tightly interwoven.

"What kind of car is it?" Chuck's excited voice made Sarah blink back to the present.

"Dean, how about you show him." Bobby advised. "Pull the tarp off, will yeah?"

Dean did as he was told. He grabbed the black tarp and gave it a good pull; it unconcealed the vehicle in one swoop.

"It was your Dad's old car." The hunter mentioned as an awe-struck Chuck went to inspect it. "He went on most of his hunting trips with it until after you were born. He told me a few years back to keep it stored just in case he needed it, but I think he was talking about you."

The car glittered beneath the pale moonlight, its blue coat sparkling like stars. Chuck placed a hand on the hood, marveling in how good of shape it was in. It looked untouched, brand new even.

He asked breathlessly, "What is it?"

"A 1968 Pontiac Firebird," Bobby answered. "A damn good car, so you better take good care of it."

"I won't let anything happen to it," Chuck promised.

Entranced, he almost was hit in the face with a pair of keys. He grabbed them out of the air just in time.

"Thank you so much, Bobby."

Bobby shook his head. "Don't thank me. Thank your Dad."

Chuck smiled, grateful. "I will."

* * *

By the time Chuck had gotten the Firebird situated, it was time for Sam, Dean, and Bobby to make their departure as well as his own. The two brothers were by the Impala, shoving as much stuff as they could in the backseat. Bobby had unlinked the van he drove from Steven Bartowski's old car and Castiel aided him in climbing back into the driver's side.

The sounds of engines rumbling pierced the night sky; all three cars ready to continue their separate journeys. While Chuck was fidgeting with the trunk of the car, Sarah went over to the Winchesters.

She called them out individually, "Sam, Dean?"

They slammed the car door and spun around. Sam looked hopeful, Dean was not.

"I just wanted to say, thank you for keeping Chuck safe. It means more than you can possibly know."

Sam stepped toward her while Dean lingered behind. He held out a hand.

"It's no problem at all. Chuck may not be blood related, but he's a much as family as Dean and I are. We wouldn't mind it either if you decide to join in the fun." He looked over his shoulder. "Right, Dean?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Join our big happy dysfunctional family! It'll be a blast."

"Don't listen to him. He's just tired. He hasn't had his daily nap yet."

Sarah smiled, instantly making the connection between Chuck and Sam. They were so very much alike. She felt instantly comfortable around him. And instead of accepting his handshake, she gave him a sincere hug. Sam was taken by surprise but warmed up to it eventually. Dean was gawking.

They parted and both of them were smiling wider than before.

"Thank you," she repeated softly.

Sam stayed quiet, meditative. Sarah brushed past him and came to Dean, who was expecting a hug like his brother. She awkwardly gave him a pat on the head. Sam choked back his laughter.

"It was interesting meeting you, Dean."

"Uh…"

She left without anything more to add. Dean looked to his brother, who just snorted.

"Why did you get a hug, but I got a pat on the head?" he asked.

"Because she thinks you're like a retarded puppy, Dean."

"Whatever, let's bail."

Sam nodded. He glanced over to Bobby and then to Chuck and Sarah.

"See you guys later," he called.

"Hopefully not too soon," Dean added.

"Be safe," Bobby shouted over the van's engine. "And take your angel along with you."

Dean rolled his eyes. Calling him like a dog, "Cas, come on. We'll give you a ride to wherever you want to go."

Castiel bowed his head and then obediently went to the Impala. Chuck watched them all get in their cars; music blaring out of the Impala while a cool silence filled the van. The cars revved and went on their way, exiting the parking lot, dust kicking up as they sped down the empty road.

Once they were only specks in the horizon, Chuck sighed.

Sarah looked up into his face, took a deep breath, and said, "So, what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

She was looking at him steadily; he however found it to be difficult to look back. Even though blackness had taken over the sky, Sarah was like gazing into a brilliant light. It was impossible to not stare, even if it was blinding.

"Where do we go from here?" She asked. "Do we go back to Burbank and be spies again or do we…?

"I don't know," he said feebly, his palm resting on the handle of the car. "Both are important and it's hard to decide. On one hand, we need to get back home or else we're in serious trouble. I don't think you want Beckman up your ass because we decided to take a longer detour across the United States hunting the supernatural…"

She ignored his rambling. He could not blame her.

"I will be with you no matter what you decide, Chuck." She said honestly.

"Well what if I'm undecided?"

She disregarded his indecisiveness too.

"You can do both. We can do both: Together. I'm ready for this, more so than I have been for anything else in my entire life."

He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful; her face was resolute and the air around her crackled with self-determination. It was one of the wonderful things about Sarah; she was not a weepy person. She was strong willed and the life she led as a conman's daughter and a CIA operative must've toughened her up.

She took a step closer to him.

Continuing in a hushed tone, "Being a spy…it's been my job, but this, I can feel it. It's what I have to do. Chuck, we have to do this. We need to stop the apocalypse."

"If there's anyone in the world I'd like to go hunt Lucifer down with, it'd be you. To be honest, we might have a chance at surviving this."

"There's the silver lining I've been looking for," she cracked a delighted smile and then she pressed her body to his and kissed him. Chuck was kissing back and he wrapped his arms around her waist as he leaned against the Firebird.

It was sweet bliss and for awhile, they enjoyed the peace. Seldom in the parking lot, was Chuck lost in the only real thing in his world, Sarah. The feel of her, one hand on her back and one in her blonde hair—

"We'll continue this later." Sarah teased, suddenly parting from Chuck.

"Smart thinking," he smiled. He stroked her face once before kissing her a final time.

They silently went to their respective sides of the car; opened the doors; jumped in and got settled in their seats. Chuck sat on the driver's side, a sense of purpose filtering behind his brown eyes. He stared through the windshield and saw the road up ahead. Sliding the keys into the ignition, he turned on the car. It roared to life and he cracked a triumphant grin.

Setting the gear into drive, he traded a last glance with Sarah.

"Ready?" he asked her.

He was met with a smile of her own. "Let's go home, Chuck."

And so they did—_together_— just like how they envisioned it would always end.

_Fin_

* * *

An: And It's over!!! Aw… Part Two: dubbed Sorority Row (Wonder what that's about?) Will be out soon; finals are next week and then I'm having surgery so….possibly next Saturday? Anyway, here are some things that you can look forward too during the duration of the series:

Chuck and Sarah's first hunt! (Action, humor, and romance ensue!)

Casey's secret.

How I will work Shaw and the Ring into this—I think it's pretty clever at least—same goes with Hannah.

How much of a badass Ellie is.

What's going on with Chuck and his deal with an angel?

Is the ghost of Emmitt Milbarge haunting the Buy More? The Answer: yes.

And There is many, many more to come. Just ask questions and I'll try to answer as best as I can!

Hoped everyone enjoyed part I. I know I did. =D


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